Paths to Healing
by MissieMoose
Summary: The recipient of an unwanted gift, Madelina has been forced to travel from place to place in order to keep those who gave her the gift from finding her. Just as she was beginning to think they finally lost her trail and she could settle down as Madam Red's chef, Madelina must make a tough decision when Red dies: Work as a Phantomhive servant or be turned over to those who hunt her.
1. Chapter 1

"Time to wake up, Angelina!"

Red opened her eyes only to cringe and clench them shut again as she was assaulted by annoyingly bright sunlight. With a groan, she grabbed a pillow and covered her face with it. "Come back in half an hour, Maddie," she groaned, voice muffled by the pillow. Her head ached something terrible and the sudden burst of light hadn't help it feel any better.

"I had a feeling you'd be hungover, so I brought you a bit of pickle juice."

She scrunched her nose up. "Is it the zesty stuff?"

"No, my lady. It's sweet pickle juice." The maid chuckled as she watched her mistress hold out her arm, her hand waiting for the glass. Picking up the glass, she carefully pressed it into her mistress' hand, waiting until she had a firm grip on it before letting go. "For breakfast, I've made you crepes stuffed with a salmon mousse and a poached egg atop a buttered crumpet. With it, I've prepared you some Gyokuro tea."

Sighing, Red sat up and leaned back against her headboard. "I'm sure it will be delicious," she murmured. Then, her nose scrunching up again, she took a long drink of the pickle juice; she tried to drink as much of it as she could, knowing it would help relieve the throbbing in her skull. Her face contorting into a mixture of disgust and pain as she pulled her lips from the glass, she made a dissatisfied sound. "Ugh!"

The maid came over, taking the nearly-empty glass from her only to replace it with a delicate cup of tea. "You wouldn't have to drink it if you didn't drink so much wine at those parties," she said, her voice both playful and scolding. "You know it gives you horrible hangovers."

"I had some whisky to wash it all down with, though," she replied. Though her voice sounded drab, there was the slightest hint of a smile on her lips as she glanced up at the maid. "I didn't do anything _too _scandalous, did I, Madelina?" she then asked, her tone more serious.

"No, you didn't." She quietly laughed as she started to pull out Red's clothes from the wardrobe. "You did, however, make a number of bawdy jokes, complimented Miss Ran Mao on her 'amazing ability to keep her cheongsam from riding up, and contributed quite a bit of juicy gossip to conversations taking place all over the party."

Red watched as Madelina stood on her tiptoes in order to properly remove a dress from the wardrobe. She couldn't help but smile; despite being the same age, Madelina was just over a foot shorter than her—standing at a whopping four-foot-five. "Maddie, dear, you _know _I have stool in here you're free to use."

She looked over her shoulder, pouting slightly at her mistress. "I can reach your dresses just fine, Angelina," she retorted, her tone a playful sort of whine. She then blew a raspberry at her before laying the crimson dress out over the back of a nearby chair. "Let me know when you're ready to eat, by the way."

"Perhaps in a few minutes. My stomach's currently roiling thanks to the sudden influx of pickling liquid." She took a small sip of her tea, hoping it would quell her stomach's irritation. She loved Madelina's salmon mousse-stuffed crepes and didn't want them to go to waste because of a mere hangover. "Hm. Not that corset."

Madelina paused as she was in the middle of removing a corset from a drawer. "The looser one, then?" When Red nodded, she reached down to the bottom of the drawer, where an older, more worn corset was hidden away. "You've work at the hospital today from eleven to five," she said, laying the corset out alongside a pair of stockings and undergarments. "I've already taken the liberty of packing you some lunch, tea, and a few snacks for when you get hungry."

Red perked slightly at this information. "What kind of snacks did you make?" she questioned before taking another drink of her tea.

"Cherry and almond scones, dried fruits, and a few chicken hand-pies."

At that, Red laughed. "A _few _snacks, Maddie? That sounds like an entire meal!"

The maid glanced up at her as she continued to get her outfit for the day ready. "I know how hungry you get on days when you're hungover, Angelina. And when you're hungry, you get cranky. The last thing your patients need is a cranky doctor." She chuckled, glancing over at her mistress. "How is your stomach feeling?"

"It's finally starting to feel better, thank you," she smiled. "And thank you for thinking ahead, Maddie. You know me so well."

"I would hope so!" she grinned. "I've _only_ been working for you for eight years, after all. It'd be a shame if I didn't know your ways by now." She tucked a curl behind her ear and made a mental note to redo the tying of her ribbon before she did any other chores.

Red patted the edge of the bed beside her. "My, my…it's been eight years already?" She sipped her tea. "It feels like I hired you just yesterday."

Sitting down the edge of the bed, Madelina smiled, her brow somewhat raised. "And to think, you _almost _didn't hire me on the pure speculation of my age."

She pursed her lips in a pout. "Maddie, darling, you're the same height as my twelve-year-old nephew. If it hadn't been for those breasts of yours, I would have been convinced you _were _a twelve-year-old trying to pass themselves off as an accomplished chef." She then shook her head, laughing softly. "At least I no longer believe you to be a living doll." She reached over, running her fingers through the mass of maroon curls that Madelina had tied back. "Hard to believe these curls were only the length of your chin when you started working for me. But they're as soft as ever!" Pulling her hand back, she let out a small, content sigh. "I think I'm ready for my breakfast now."

"Good," Madelina chuckled, sliding off the bed. She walked over to a table in the corner of the room and lifted a tray from it. "I was hoping you would feel up to eating soon." Bringing the tray over, she set it over Red's lap. "After all, a cold poached egg isn't a very tasty one."

"Ugh, so true. But your crepes taste good at any temperature." She plucked up her fork and began eating. "Will you be going to the market today, by the way?"

"Hm. I probably should. We're getting a bit low on sugar and I'll need more vinegar for making pickles. I seem to be going through the pickling liquid quite fast of late" She glanced over at Red, a playful grin on her lips when she saw her mistress giving her a dull, half-hearted glare.

"Maddie, dear? You're _so _not funny." Shaking her head, she quietly laughed to herself as she took a bite of the salmon mousse-stuffed crepes.

"Then why, pray tell, are you giggling, Angelina?"

"Oh, shush _you_." 

* * *

It turns out more than just sugar and vinegar were needed. After doing a last check through the pantry, she had discovered that she would also need flour, chocolate, and fresh fruits if she was to keep Red's supply of sweets fresh.

'I wonder if I'll be able to find any coffee beans?' she thought, making her way to the grocers with a basket in hand. 'I'd love to be able to make a tiramisu again. It's been ages…Though, in that case, I'd need some cream as well.' She then shook her head, sighing. 'Don't get ahead of yourself.'

As she walked down the street, she found herself coming across an annoyingly common problem for her: Since she was a dwarf, many people thought her to be a child at first glance. And many people didn't bother moving out of the way when walking towards a supposed child. She did her best to move out of the way in time, but more than once, she was forced to stay in the same spot thanks to the other pedestrians around her.

The last thing she wanted was to be knocked over into the road and run over by a carriage.

A sigh of relief left her mouth as she finally stepped into the grocers—a rather popular place called 'Pullman and Sons'. Though it looked to be just as busy as the streets outside, she knew it would be a bit safer to walk around; the majority of people here were women. Old biddies, young mothers, and single maids all intermingled as they exchanged gossip with one another and coin with the clerks behind the counters.

"Miss Madelina! Over here!"

Pausing in her steps, she looked over at the counter. A small smile came to her lips as she saw a young man, no more than twenty, waving at her from behind the counter. While walking over to him, her brow rose.

"Good day to you, too, Philip," she told him.

He grinned cheekily at her. "It _is _a good day, Miss Madelina," he told her. From beneath the counter, he produced a glass jar filled with liquid and slices of a light-orange fruit.

Madelina's eyes widened as she grabbed the jar, looking its contents over. "Are those what I think they are?" she murmured, eyes glancing up at Philip.

"Canned peaches imported straight from Georgia in the States," he declared. "We got 'em in last night and now we're damn near sold out."

"How many do you have left?" she asked, setting the jar back down on the counter. "Please tell me more than just this one jar."

He laughed. "Dad made sure to save you a total of _five _jars," he assured her. "After how heartbroken you looked the last time we got some in and you didn't get here in time, he made absolutely sure we set aside some for you."

She felt her cheeks grow a bit warm. "Well, I thank you for doing that," she said, a bit embarrassed. 'But if a little embarrassment means I get five jars of peaches, I'm alright with it,' she thought.

"Here, I'll take your basket," he said, leaning over the counter. "Will you be needing anything else? I know we've got some lovely dried citrus fruits in recently."

"Have you gotten any coffee beans in?" she asked. "Or some sugar or pickling vinegar? It doesn't matter if the beans have been roasted yet or not."

A thoughtful look came to his face as he placed the five jars into her basket for her. "I don't think we've any vinegar today," he admitted, "but I can check. And I'll check for the coffee beans, too. The sugar, however, I _know _we have. Please wait here, Miss Madelina."

Watching as Philip hurried off, she looked up at the wall of goods that stood just a few feet behind the counter. From floor to ceiling and circling the entirety of the room, the shelves were packed with all kinds of goods. Lipstick, toothpaste, rice, flour, shoe polish, nails, screws…The store had practically everything.

'Except for fresh produce,' she thought. 'I'll still have to go to the market for that. But that's fine. The jars of peaches should make it so I don't end up buying too much like normal.' She continued to look along the shelves, seeing if there was anything else she would need.

"You're _mostly_ in luck, Miss Madelina," Philip said, returning with a few tin cans. "We've got unroasted coffee beans and sugar." He set the tins on the counter for her to look over. "But, just as I thought, we're out of pickling vinegar."

"That's quite alright. I don't need it urgently." She read the labels on the tins of coffee beans, scrutinizing their information. Then, setting down the larger of the two, she put the smaller one in her basket. The third tin, which contained the sugar, she added in—it was her favorite brand, so she knew she didn't need to check it. "Well, I think this should be everything."

Philip nodded. "Alright. So, let's see…" He started calculating the total price of the goods, mumbling the numbers to himself. "Oh, ten pence should do it, Miss Madelina."

Her brow rose. "That seems a bit cheap, don't you think? Surely the peaches would up the price to be a shilling or two?"

"You would think," he replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "But ten pence is what the math tells me, so ten pence it is."

Madelina, however, didn't seem convinced. "Philip…"

He pouted. "What? Do I need to get dad over here to prove me right?" He nodded down the counter to where his father was helping two different women at once.

Not wanting to bother the elder Pullman, she begrudgingly handed over the ten pence. "No, he's busy enough as is," she sighed, "but I still say you're undercharging me."

"Even if I am, I know it doesn't matter," he chuckled, taking the coins from her. "Miss Madelina, you're one of our best customers. We know you'll be back and spend three times as much another time. Now, I hope you have a nice rest of your day, Miss Madelina."

"You, too, Philip."

Making her way out of the grocers', Madelina brushed a stray curl out of her face as she walked down the street. 'Now to the market to get some fresh produce.' Once more, she was cautious as she walked, though the crowds soon started to thin out. 'It is nearing tea time, after all.'

But that was luxury a meal reserved mostly for upper-middle and high-class society; everyone else would have to settle for continuing their work day.

Passing by a large building set back a few meters from the street, Madelina paused to look up at it. It was the Royal London Hospital—one of many in the city. Inside those walls, Angelina and other medical professionals were treating the sick and performing surgeries.

'I hope she's doing well,' she thought, finally pulling her gaze away and continuing her walk. 'There have been so many abortions lately…every time she's had to perform one, she comes home a sobbing wreck. The poor thing…such slaps in the face for her.' A heavy sigh left her mouth as she remembered seeing Red in the hospital after the carriage accident that had claimed the life of her husband and unborn child. 'She had been so excited...'

Then, shaking her head, she did her best to push the thoughts from her mind. She knew all too well that it wouldn't do her any good to dwell on the past. There would never be a way she could change how things happened in the world—though, it didn't stop her from wishing there was a way.

'If I could change the past, then I wouldn't be here.' 

* * *

Madelina awoke to the sound of rain on the window. Rising from her bed, she stretched and yawned as she made her way over to her dresser. Just as she did every morning, she did her best to tame her mass of maroon curls before tying them back with a ribbon. Grabbing her corset, she fastened it around her midsection before loosely tying it—she hated wearing the thing, but it was a required part of her uniform.

'I wonder if Angelina ever came back last night?' she thought, pulling on her stockings, 'or if she stayed the night as some handsome man's house? Or perhaps I'll find her passed out on the sofa again after a night of unexpected party-going?' She clipped her garters into place on the top of her stockings before fastening a leather flask holster around her upper thigh. Pulling the flask from it, she unscrewed the lid and took a swig of its contents.

Or, at least, she _tried _to take a swig.

"Hm. Time to finally refill you, I guess." She screwed the cap back on and set the flask on her dresser before she finished getting dressed. After making sure her uniform was all in order, she grabbed the flask once more, tucking it away in the pocket of her apron. Finally, she left her room.

Making her way down the hall, she lifted a brow. On the floor, leading from the top of the stairs and down to Red's room, was a trail of clothes. As she drew closer, she found that the clothes were soaking wet. Half of them were Red's, but the other half?

"So _she_ brought home a man," Madelina murmured to herself. "That's a first." Shaking her head, she proceeded to pick up the sopping garments. She carried them down to the kitchen, where she wrung them out over a bucket before draping them over the backs of chairs so that, once she got the fire lit, they could start drying out.

Within an hour, she had the fires lit and the house ready for the day. A half hour after that, she was carrying a tray of food and tea upstairs for Red and her evening guest: Maple-pecan griddlecakes, diced fruit salad, toast with whipped butter, and a lightly sweetened mint tea. Before going to Red's room, however, she stopped by one of the guest rooms and fetched one of the spare nightshirts so that the man wouldn't have to walk around in the nude until his clothes were dry.

She was thankful when she found the door to Red's bedroom hadn't been properly shut, leaving her able to open it with a small push from her foot. Just as she did every morning, she set the tray of food on the small table—this time, though, she also set the nightshirt on the table—before going to throw open the curtains.

"Time to wake up, Angelina and guest," she chirped, filling the room with the grey, but bright, light of the morning sun. Tying the first set of curtains back, she moved to open the second set. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as the two figures shifted under the blankets, two sets of protesting groans coming from beneath them.

Bleary-eyed and messy-haired, Angelina pushed herself upright. "Maddie?" she mumbled, either not realizing or not caring that her bare chest was exposed. "What time is it?"

"Half past seven," she replied, fetching a robe from her dresser. She brought it over to Red, wrapping it around the woman. "I don't know what time you got back in last night, but I've got your clothes and your guest's clothes drying in the kitchen."

"Guest?" Her eyes then widened and she suddenly grabbed the blankets next to her, yanking them back only to reveal the nude backside of a tall, lean man with long, crimson hair. He promptly yelped and tried to bring the covers back over him. "Ah. Yes. I had almost forgotten about Grell."

The person rolled over and sat up, pouting as they clutched the sheet to their body. "You almost forgot about me!? How could you _ever _forget me after such a _wonderful _ni—" Their eyes fell on Madelina, their cheeks turning a bit red. "_Oooh_! Such _gorgeous _hair!" they gasped. They looked over at Red, a wide grin on their lips. "I don't think I've ever seen a maid with such wonderfully dark red, fluffy hair!"

Madelina's brow rose. "Thank you," she said, though it was obvious she was unsure if the compliment was flattering or unnerving. Returning to the table, she grabbed a nightshirt and brought it over to them. "Here. Your clothes are drying downstairs, so I thought you would like to have _something _to cover you up."

"What, and hide that cute arse of theirs?" Red grinned. "Maddie, you'd be doing us a disservice by having them cover up!"

Grell wiggled their finger. "As pretty as your little maid is, my cute arse is only for a select few to see," they playfully scolded.

"Ah, pardon?" Madelina said, feeling rather awkward thanks to the flirtations between Red and Grell, "but why do you keep calling him 'them', Angelina?" Something didn't seem quite right about this person—Red wasn't the type of woman to bring home a man and bed him. In fact, she wasn't the type to bed a man she wasn't married to at all! Teasing and flirting was more her style.

So, how did this Grell manage to woo her mistress?

"Grell is neither male nor female," she explained.

Grell flopped back against the pillows, letting out a theatrical sigh as they draped an arm over their face. "I may have been born in the body of a hopelessly beautiful man, but my heart and mind cannot decide if they wish to be those of a woman or those of a man." They peeked out from beneath his arm, as if expecting the maid to gush her pities to them.

Madelina nodded slowly in understanding. "I see," she murmured. "Well, I apologize if I've offended you."

"You didn't know, dear, so no worries," Grell told her, dismissively waving their hand at her. "But what is that _delicious _smell wafting over here? Surely not your perfume, Angelina." Sitting upright again, they pulled the nightshirt on, having to stand up in order to get it to cover their lower half.

"That would be breakfast," Red laughed, her brow rising. "What did you make, Maddie? Because Grell's right—it smells _yummy_! Not that any other meal you make doesn't smell yummy; this one just smells especially so."

Madelina quietly laughed, lifting the tray of food from the table. "I've made you maple-pecan griddlecakes with a diced fruit salad. There's also toast with whipped butter and, for tea, a lightly sweetened mint tea." She leaned over Red, placing the tray between the two of them.

Grell's eyed widened in surprise as they beheld the spread of food on the tray. "Do you eat like this _every _day, Angelina?" they asked. "Because this looks _amazing!" _

"Of course I eat like this every day," Red laughed, looking more than a little chuffed. "Madelina is the best cook in the whole of Britain—possibly even the world! She always makes sure only the most scrumptious of meals graces my palate."

"I'm not _that _good of a cook, Angelina," Madelina countered. "I just have a lot of experience in the kitchen and I know your tastes well. Though, clearly your tastes in partners has changed over the years…" She watched as Grell grabbed one of the plates of griddlecakes as well as a fork. They greedily cut themselves a bite of the food before shoving it into their mouth.

"Ah, yes, I'll admit that Grell is a rather unorthodox choice," Red chuckled, "but we mesh so well, don't you think? You wouldn't believe how much the two of us have in common!" She took up the other plate, throwing Madelina a small wink. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Grell interrupted with a loud, almost inappropriate sound of pleasure.

"These are _DELICIOUS!_" they exclaimed, staring down at the griddlecakes. "I've had such delights before, but they never _ever _tasted this good!" They quickly shoved another bite into their mouth, chewing it happily.

Madelina's brow rose, surprised by their reaction—to her, it was just every day breakfast food she had served. "I'm glad you enjoy it," she told them. "I make griddlecakes for Angelina every Saturday morning."

Red frowned. "It is Saturday, isn't it?" She let out a small sigh. "This week certainly got away from me…"

"Such things happen," Madelina chuckled. "Is there anything I can get either of you?" she then asked.

Looking up, Grell smiled sheepishly. "Actually, yes. Can you tell me where the privy is?" they asked.

"Down the hall, third door on the right," Red answered for her. She watched as Grell practically threw themselves out of the bed and hurried out of the room. A soft laugh left her mouth. "What do you think of them, Maddie?"

"I don't think I know them well enough to form a real opinion yet, Angelina," she replied. "How long have you known them? I don't recall you mentioning them before."

She chewed a mouthful of fruit before answering. "A few months ago, actually. We've met up a few times since then, but last night was the first time we…well, the first time we became intimate."

Madelina shrugged. "I suppose if you trust them enough to be _intimate_ with them, they mustn't be a bad person, then." She gave her mistress a warm smile. "Gods only know it's about time you found someone you trust that much again."

Red smiled. "Yes…yes, it has been quite a while, hasn't it…?" she murmured. "Would you be alright with them staying over for a while?"

"Angelina, this is _your _house," she reminded her. "If you want to let them stay, then that's your choice. I'm just your chef-slash-maid. My opinion shouldn't matter."

"Maddie, you're far more than _just _my chef-slash-maid. You've been by my side since you were first hired and you were at my side during every tragedy and every celebration that happened over the last eight years." She took a sip of her tea before sighing quietly. "You're one of my dearest friends—I consider you to be family at this point. Your opinion matters greatly to me."

Reaching over, Madelina flattened some cowlicks in Red's hair. "Admittedly, I find them a bit strange, but as I said, I don't know them well enough to have a real opinion of them. So I trust your judgement on this, Angelina. If you'd like for them to stay over for a while, then so be it. I will tend to them just as I would any other guest." Despite her words, there was a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. "I should probably go check on your clothing. We want it dry, not burnt to a crisp."

Red nodded in understanding. "Of course, dear. Thank you for being so understanding and for such a delicious breakfast." Reaching over, she grabbed Madelina's arm and pulled her into a hug. "They shouldn't be too much of a bother—hopefully, they'll be quite the opposite. They're a method actor, you see, and they have a role coming up where they play a butler."

"Ah, an actor," she chuckled. "That makes more sense now. Being a method actor, I take it they'll be trying their hand at being your butler for the duration of their stay?"

"Exactly." She smiled brightly, releasing Madelina from the hug. "Well, I shouldn't keep you away from those clothes any longer. I'll be seeing you soon enough, anyway." She smiled and made a shooing motion with her hands.

Rolling her eyes, Madelina chuckled as she left the room. She passed by Grell as they were leaving the bathroom; she offered them a polite smile before turning left and heading down the stairs.

'I don't know why, but I get such a strange feeling from them,' she thought, brushing a curl from her face. 'I could just be overreacting and being overprotective, though. This is the first time Angelina's had a lover since the carriage accident…but the fact that they're an actor doesn't sit well, either. What if they're just acting and trying to worm their way into Angelina's favor in order to get at her pocketbooks?'

She sighed and shook her head as she entered the kitchen. 'Only time will tell.' Grabbing the poppy-red skirt of Red's abandoned dress, she turned it around so that it dried evenly. 'And I hope it tells me that I'm simply being overprotective…'


	2. Chapter 2

"So…what's the point of mixing the butter and sugar together first? Everything's just going to get mixed together in the end anyway."

"To be honest, I'm not exactly sure. I think, since the sugar is so grainy compared to everything else, the butter helps to soften it up and mix in better? That, and if you beat it enough, it gets light and fluffy."

"Which makes a lighter batter?"

"I suppose it does, yes." Madelina glanced over at Grell, who was resting their elbows on the counter and their chin in their palms. Behind them, the clock ticked away, its hands pointing out a time of 2:35 in the afternoon. "It's nearly three. Shouldn't you be getting Angelina's tea prepared?"

"Oh, yes—it's nearly that time, isn't it?" Grell moved from their spot in order to fetch the kettle. "What kind of tea do you think Red would like today?" they asked, flicking their long, brown ponytail over their shoulder.

Seeing them with brown hair was still rather surprising to Madelina—they had dyed it the previous day in order to appear more inconspicuous in learning the role of a butler. In addition to the now normal-looking hair, they had also donned a simple black suit with the only outstanding details being the red-and-white striped bowtie around their neck and the red ribbon holding their hair back.

Madelina was quiet moment as she continued to cream the butter and sugar together. Pausing, she grabbed an egg and cracked it into the bowl. "I think, perhaps, a nice green tea steeped with some of the strawberries I hulled this morning should do it."

They nodded in understanding. "Alright. Just throw the whole berries in while it steeps?" They sounded uncertain of her logical.

She started to mix in the egg, the mixture getting looser thanks to the additional liquid. "Maybe squish them a bit so more of the juices can mix in."

Grell nodded once again and set the now-filled kettle on the stove. "Red tells me that you've been her only servant for the last few years. Isn't it a lot of work, having to be a maid _and _a chef?"

"Not really," she replied. "Angelina is the only person I've had to care for over the last few years. It's not very hard to keep a house tidy, a pantry stocked, and my lady free from hangovers." She added another egg into the bowl.

"So why is it just you and no one else? I take it things weren't always this way."

Madelina's brow rose as she heard them started to mash up the strawberries—it sounded like they weren't being very gentle about it. "After she lost her husband and unborn child, she couldn't really…tolerate the other servants. They weren't really giving her space to heal." A third egg went into the bowl. "Especially when her sister and brother-in-law were murdered." She shook her head. "It was a horrible, horrible year for her."

"But she was able to tolerate you."

"Yes." Pausing in her mixing, she went over to check on what Grell was doing. Her eyes widened slightly in horror as she found them using a pestle to mash the strawberries straight into the presentation teapot with what looked like shards of green tea leaves. "O-Oh dear…"

Looking down at her, they frowned. "What? Isn't this what I'm supposed to do?"

"…Not really."

Grell's frown increased and a bit of panic overcame their face. "I-it's not!? But the hot water mixes with the tea and berries in this pot, doesn't it?"

"No, you make the tea in _this_ pot." She retrieved a plain looking teapot from the shelf. "That way, you can strain the tea from this pot into the pretty one."

"…So, I've ruined this tea pot?" Before Madelina could answer, though, they slumped to their knees, their head resting against the counter. "I'm a failure. I can't even make a simple pot of tea!" they defeatedly exclaimed. "How can I ever be a perfect butler if I can't make something as simple as _tea_?! It's just _leaf water_!"

Sighing, Madelina shook her head. "Well, you definitely won't be a perfect butler if you act like this at the simplest mistake," she told them, her brow rising. "Come on, get up. I'll show you how to do it correctly. And you're lucky: the teapot you chose is one of Angelina's least favorites. So we'll just use that to steep the tea. Now fetch one of the small, silver platters."

Grell blinked, but after standing up, they did as they were instructed. "This one?" they asked, pulling a silver plate down from the cupboard.

"Yes. Now you're going to put down a doily in the center of it." As she spoke, she returned to her mixing bowl. "Not one of the intricate ones—one of the plain ones. On that, you'll set that little plate of sandwiches as well as a teacup and saucer."

"Alright…which cup and saucer should I use? The one that matches the pot?"

"No; we won't be using that one, remember?" She looked over at them, giving them a reassuring smile. Picking up a small pitcher, she poured a mixture of heavy cream, vanilla essence, and orange liqueur. "Pick a different pot and use one of the matching cups and saucers for it." She whisked the cream mixture in with the eggs.

They nodded, looking over the selection of teapots. "How about this one?" they asked, carefully lifting one that had hundreds of tiny, red poppies painted all over it. "This one is nice and cute. And it's lid even looks like a little poppy!" They grinned, holding it up beside their face with a wide grin.

Madelina glanced over, smiling. "Yes, that one will work," she told them. "Now grab a matching cup and saucer." She grabbed a smaller bowl filled with flour, baking soda, salt, and cocoa powder and slowly started to mix it into the liquid ingredients.

"Alright," Grell mumbled, opening the cupboard door and pulling out a cup and saucer. They carried it over to the platter, setting it down alongside the teapot before grabbing the little plate of cucumber sandwiches Madelina had shown them how to make earlier. "There! That looks right, doesn't it?" They stepped back, allowing Madelina to inspect their work.

"It looks perfect," she complimented. "Now you just need to wait for the ket—" She was cut off as Grell plucked up the platter and hurried off.

"Oh, Red, my darling!" they called out in a sing-song tone. "I've your afternoon tea!"

Closing her eyes, Madelina sighed. "They forgot to finish making the tea…" She looked between her mixing bowl and the kettle on the stove. 'I think I have just enough time left until the water boils to finish mixing up this batter and get it in the pan," she thought, adding more of the dry ingredients into the bowl. She folded them in quickly, but thoroughly.

By the time Grell returned, red-faced and embarrassed by their mistake, Madelina was pouring the boiling water into the teapot. "I forgot the tea…" they mumbled, bringing the empty serving pot over to the counter. "Red scolded me."

"Well, you _are _trying to live as a butler for the next few weeks," she reminded them. "You'll need to pay close attention to everything that you're doing in order to give the best possible service." Once the teapot was filled, she put the lid on it before returning to her pan of batter. Making sure all of her hair was out of the way, she picked it up and carried it over to the oven.

"You sure know a lot about butlering," they commented, their brow rising as they watched Madelina rise up on her tiptoes to open the oven door. "Is there some sort of school maids and butlers attend to learn how to do their jobs?"

"Oh, heavens no!" she laughed, putting the pan in the oven and using a fire poker to shove it towards the center. "Normally, you start work as a child and work your way up through the ranks." Closing the oven door, she used her apron to dab a bit of sweat from her forehead.

They gave her a dry look. "There are different ranks of servants? Like different ranks in the military?"

Her brow rose slightly. "You…didn't know that, Grell?" she asked, confused. It was fairly common knowledge that household servants had their own ranks, after all. "Also, the tea's steeped long enough. I already got the strainer out so you can pour it into the serving pot."

"No, I didn't know that," they pouted, moving to do as instructed. "Why? Is it something I _should _have known?"

"Not necessarily, though it is fairly common knowledge." Going over to the icebox, she checked on the meat she had marinating in a bowl. "But, to answer your question: Yes, there are different ranks. The highest ones are housekeeper for women and house steward for men."

"Which means you're the housekeeper for Red?"

"Until she's ready to hire more servants again, yes." Bringing the bowl out of the icebox, she set it on the counter before she went over to watch Grell fill the serving pot with tea. "Now, when you carry this up to Angelina, keep a cloth between your palm and the ceramic. That way you don't burn yourself—gloves offer only so much protection, after all. Oh, and please tell her we'll be having lamb in yogurt sauce with roasted vegetables."

They nodded as they capped the tea. "Alright—wait. You won't be joining us for tea?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not. I've a few things I need to pick up at the grocer's and tea time is one of the best times to do it." She untied her apron and hung it on a hook near the door.

"Is it? I would think the shopkeepers would close up for tea, too."

"Not all of them. I'll be back soon enough—you had best get that tea up to Angelina before she scolds you further." She gave them a teasing smile before gently shooing them out of the kitchen. 

* * *

"_Maaaadddiiieee_!"

Madelina sighed as she heard Grell racing down the hall. "What is it, Grell?" she asked, stirring flour into melted butter. This was the fourth time today they had come running to her because they had made some sort of mistake.

They burst into the kitchen and threw themselves at the feet of Madelina's stool; her nose started to sting with the acrid scent of chlorine. "Oh, it's _horrible_! I was attempting to do the laundry when I noticed a stain on one of Red's dresses," they explained, hugging onto her ankles. "I tried to scrub it out with some of that foul-smelling liquid soap, but it washed the color right out of the fabric! And now some of the fabric's even been dissolved away!"

Her eyes widened. "What!?" she gasped. "There isn't any liquid soap, Grell!"

"Of course there is," they pouted. "It's in the brown bottle!"

"That's not soap!" Shoving her pan off the burner, she hopped off the stool and grabbed their wrists. To her horror, their hands were bright red and covered in painful looking welts. "Oh, Grell—that was chlorine! You're not supposed to use like normal soap—you add it into water. Now look at your poor hands; let's get them rinsed off and into some milk before they get any worse."

Their lower lip wobbled as they half crawled, half walked over to the sink. "I messed up, didn't I?" they asked. "I ruined one of Red's dresses and she's going to hate me forever!"

Madelina glanced up at them as she brought their hands under the cool tap water. "Yes, you messed up, but you can't entirely be blamed," she cooed, trying to keep them calm. "The chlorine bottles don't provide the most informative of instructions. Now, keep your hands under the water."

"Red's still going to hate me, though!" they wailed. "She looks so amazing in that dress; I just wanted to clean it for her so she could wear it to the party tomorrow!"

"I'll break the news to her," she told them. "I can read her better than you; I'll know what sort of words to use." Opening the icebox, she pulled out a bottle of milk. She paused a moment; she _had _intended to use it for a deliciously creamy gravy to go with that night's meal.

'A normal, stock-based gravy will work just as well,' she thought, finding a bowl deep enough that Grell would be able to fully submerge their hands. 'Getting Grell's hands calmed down is more important.'

Prying the cork from the bottle, she poured the entire thing into the bowl. "Here, put your hands in here."

Grell sniffled. "Let my hands fester. I must atone for the horrid mistake I made," they said. "Red's anger towards me won't be enough. Let my hands fester because of my stupidity!"

"Oh, stop being such a diva," she sighed, turning off the faucet. "Now put your hands in the milk and stop worrying so much. As I said, I'd break the news to Angelina about the dress." Now that she was getting a better look at Grell, she could see that their black suit had tiny white dots all over it; they must have somehow sprayed a bit of chlorine onto themselves at some point.

Sniffling, Grell dunked their hands into the cold milk. They shivered, but a groan of relief left their mouth. "That feels much better," they murmured, not wanting to fully admit that the pain had been bothering them that much.

"I knew it would," she said, a small smile on her lips. "You keep those hands in the milk for a while. I'm going to go see just how bad the damage is."

"Oh, it's _bad_!" they wailed.

Shaking her head, Madelina left the kitchen. For now, she wouldn't believe their description of how bad the dress looked—they were, after all, being overly dramatic about the whole thing. As she came closer to the laundry room, she swore under her breath; the smell of chlorine was extremely strong. Pulling her apron up, she covered her mouth and nose before stepping into the room.

"Oh, Grell, what did you do?" she sighed.

There was a mixture of water and bleach covering most of the floor. The brown bleach bottle was laying on its side next to what had once been one of Red's most lovely dresses. Now, however, it was a mass of splotchy, red-and-white fabric with holes eaten away in the bleached portions. She shook her head and carefully walked over to the window, which she opened.

'At least this is one of the dresses she hated…But how am I supposed to clean this all up?' she thought, looking back at the massive puddle. 'I don't have any rags I could use to soak up all this bleach water and I don't want to ruin any towels.'

Her eyes fell on the ruined dress. Sighing, she carefully walked over to it and, using the toe of her boots more than her hands, she pushed it around the floor. The fabric sopped up a good portion of the bleach water and she watched, somewhat amused, as the red fabric faded from crimson to pink to white.

"There," she murmured once most of the liquid had been soaked up. "Now…what to do with the dress…I don't want to stain my own clothes or burn my hands. Hm…"

"…We could use broom handles to toss the dress out the window?"

Madelina squeaked and spun around only to find Grell standing in the doorway.

An apologetic look came to their face. "My apologies, Maddie. I thought you may have heard me coming down the hall."

"It's fine," she assured them. "I was just thinking a bit too hard is all. How are your hands feeling?"

"Much better, thank you," they smiled, holding up their hands. They were significantly less red than they had been just a quarter of an hour ago. "But yes, if we use broom handles, we could lift the dress without having to touch it."

"That's actually quite a good suggestion," she chuckled. "Let's go find the broom and the mop—Angelina will be home soon and it'll be best to get this place aired out before then."

Once the broom and mop were located, the two were able to get the dress (which was now little more than a mass of white fabric with discolored red splotches) off the floor. Getting it to the window was a bit trickier, as the fully-saturated dress had becoming quite heavy.

"Of all the things I had to ruin," Grell grunted, "it had to be the _one_ dress that came in a single piece instead of a separate skirt and bodice! Why couldn't I have ruined a pair of her drawers instead?!"

Madelina let out a strained laugh. "That would have been _far_ too convenient and you know it." 

* * *

"Here you go, Angelina." Madelina smiled as she set a bowl of soup in front of Red, who perked at the sight of it.

"Zuppa Toscana? Why, Madelina, you spoil me!" Red grinned. She picked up her spoon and scooped up a hearty bite before pausing. Her brow rising, she looked over at Madelina and Grell, the former serving the latter their own bowl of soup. While Madelina seemed perfect normal, Grell wore a nervous smile as they looked across the table at her.

Setting the spoon back down in the bowl, Red sighed. "Alright. What happened?"

"Wha-what do you mean?" Grell stammered. "Nothing happened!"

Red's brow remained raised as she leaned back in her chair. Crossing her arms over her chest, she unblinkingly stared into Grell's eyes. "What did you do?"

"There was just a little incident in the laundry room earlier today is all." Madelina sat down with her own bowl of soup.

Red frowned. "An incident? What kind of incident?"

Setting her napkin over her lap in the polite fashion, she gave Red a reassuring smile. "Grell dropped the bleach bottle and it got on some of the clothes. But don't worry; it was nothing you were fond of."

She nodded in understanding. "Is that all then?" She chuckled and looked across the table to Grell. "Really, Grell, you don't need to be so dramatic! I thought something truly disastrous had happened!" she laughed. Shaking her head, she readied another spoonful of soup before gently blowing on it.

"O-oh, well…you know us actors," they chuckled. They glanced over at Madelina, a thankful look on their face. "We're such divas, even the smallest of mistakes become catastrophes."

Red gave them a playful wink. "Don't worry. Your diva-like nature is one of the reasons I was drawn to you, remember?"

Their cheeks flushed crimson, but they grinned broadly. "Oh, come now—you know you were drawn to me because of my stunning good looks more than my flamboyant attitude," they teased.

"Well, I suppose those help a _little_."

Madelina suddenly leaned back in her chair, a faux look of disgust on her face. "_Please_, for the love of the gods, _stop flirting_!" she groaned, purposefully making herself sound as dramatic as possible. "I'm _trying _to eat here!"

Grell burst out laughing. "That's pretty good, Maddie!" they cackled. "Perhaps you should quit being a chef and become an actress instead?"

Red playfully pursed her lips. "I think not!" She leaned over, wrapping her arms around Madelina in a playfully possessive manner. "She's _my _adorable little chef! I refuse to let her become some—some _stage_ _strumpet_!"

Madelina burst into a fit of giggles. "A stage strumpet?" she laughed. "Angelina, what kind of acting do you think Grell meant?!"

"Obviously, she thinks you'd be going into pornographic acting."

"Grell!" Red gasped. "I would _never _think such a thing of Madelina! She'd be _far_ better at burlesque, anyway. Have you seen how she moves in the kitchen? So fluid and graceful; the _perfect _combination for burlesque."

A look of realization came to Grell's face and they grinned, resting their chin on their palms. "Ooh, that's so very true! I hadn't thought about that, but you're right—she _would _be wonderful at burlesque!"

Madelina continued to giggle, rolling her eyes. "I think I'll stick to being a chef, thank you very much. I'd _much_ rather feed people's _appetites_ and _not_ their lust."


	3. Chapter 3

The carriage smelled like a mixture of chocolate, cherries, and citrus.

Grell's stomach growled hungrily and they groaned, slouching down in their seat. "Maddie, those treats you made smell _so_ delicious," they whined. "Are you sure I can't have just _one_ little bite?"

"See, this is why you should have woken up when Maddie roused you the_ first_ time," Red scolded, pointing her fan at them in a 'shame-on-you' fashion. "You would have been able to eat breakfast instead of being hungry." Opening her fan, she started to wave it at her face. "It's so early, and yet it's already so warm…I hope it doesn't get much warmer while I'm doing the house-calls today."

Reaching into her pocket, Madelina pulled out an object wrapped up in newsprint. "Here you go, Grell," she said, giving them a small smile. "It may not be very warm anymore, but it should tide you over until the next meal."

A thankful smile spread across Grell's face as they took the item. "You are a Godsend, Maddie," they told her, hurriedly unwrapping it only to reveal a small hand pie.

Red frowned slightly. "You should have let them starve," she told her. "They'll never learn if you keep mothering them like this, Maddie."

Madelina's brow rose. "Says the woman who is going to drop them off to be tutored by your nephew's butler." She chuckled, shaking her head as she watched Red's cheek flush with embarrassment.

"Which reminds me," Grell said, their bite of pie shoved into their cheek so they could speak. "Why is Maddie coming, too? She doesn't need schooling on how to be a butler."

"To soften the blow to my dear, sweet nephew, of course!" Red laughed as she continued to fan herself. "Ciel _hates _it when I drop by unannounced, but he becomes so much less bitter if I bring a Maddie-made dessert for him. And who can say no to her adorable self if she hand-delivers it?" For emphasis, she leaned over and hugged the little chef, nuzzling her affectionately. "She's like an adorable little poodle puppy who makes yummy things!"

Madelina felt her cheeks starting to grow warm and found herself thankful that they were partially obscured from view thanks to Red. "I'm also friends with the other servants," she told Grell, allowing Red to continue cuddling her like a doll. "Being an only servant can be lonely, so getting to visit with them is a nice change of pace."

Grell nodded in understanding, taking another bite of their pie. "How many does Lord Phantomhive have?" they questioned. "Ten? Twenty?" Their brow rose slightly as they watched Madelina's cheeks darken. Was it a trick of the light or were her cheeks turning—

"Five," Red and Madelina chorused.

"He has his house steward, Tanaka," Madelina started to list off, "as well as a maid named Mei-Rin, a chef named Bardroy, and the most adorable gardener named Finnian."

Red chuckled, finally releasing her so she could sit upright and straighten herself out. "Maddie likes to mother Finnian. He's only fifteen."

"Fifteen and a gardener? Impressive," Grell blinked, astonished by this information. "But…Unless I've gotten bad at math, that's only _four_ servants."

Madelina frowned somewhat. "The fifth is the head butler," she sighed. "His name is Sebastian."

"He is the _most _handsome man you will ever see, Grell," Red grinned, fanning herself once more. "He is the epitome of the phrase 'Tall, dark, and handsome.' You may have seen him before—I recall the two of us visiting Ciel a few weeks ago, but I don't remember if we saw much of Sebastian thanks to the other guests…"

Grell's eyes lit up at the description and they leaned forward on the seat somewhat. "Oh? With your discerning taste in men, Red, I _know _he has to be handsome. Though, there were many handsome men that night, so I'm afraid I'm drawing a bit of a blank." They took the final bite of their pie, hurriedly chewing it. "What's he like, aside from handsome?"

"Arrogant," Madelina grumbled.

"Humble," Red sighed.

"Rude."

"Polite."

"Insufferable."

"Perfect."

They glanced between the two women, a brow cocked. "I'm not sure which of you I should listen to," they admitted.

Red dismissively waved her fan at Madelina. "Ignore her," she instructed. "Maddie and Sebastian don't really get along. They have strong personalities that conflict with one another like fire and water." A soft laugh left her mouth. "Ultimately, though, it'll be up to yourself which one of us you listen to. Though, I daresay you'll find that I'm right." She smiled cheekily as Madelina stuck her tongue out at her.

"Whatever decision they come to, it won't matter to me," Madelina sighed. "I can tolerate Sebastian's presence. That's all that required of me." She glanced down at the two tins, making sure both were still in place—the last thing she needed was for the chocolate torte or the cherry-citrus pie with almond crust she had made to get beat up before they reached their destination.

Which didn't take much longer to reach. Before a quarter of an hour had passed, Grell was climbing out of the carriage and helping Red out before moving to help Madelina. Instead, however, she handed them the two dessert tins before hopping out herself.

"Sorry," she apologized, taking the tins from them after she straightened out her skirts. "I'm too used to helping myself out of carriages." She gave them a small smile before hurrying after Red, who was already halfway to the front door. "Angelina, wait up!"

But Red didn't stop until she had reached the door—even then, she had only done such to ring the doorbell. The trio waited a few minutes before the door opened. A tall, handsome man with jet-black hair and brown eyes stood there, smiling politely.

"Ah, Madam Red! What a surprise!" he spoke. Madelina could heard the slightest bit of forced pleasantness to his voice and a shudder ran down her spine; this man still gave her the heebie-jeebies. "It's quite early in the day for a visit with my lord, don't you think?"

"Oh, don't worry, Sebastian," Red grinned, walking right past him. "It won't be a very long visit for me—for Grell and Maddie here, though…" She waved dismissively. "Now, where is that adorable nephew of mine? Is he still asleep or is he having his lessons?"

Sebastian frowned, moving to follow her. "He's preparing to have breakfast, actually," he told her, "though, I'm afraid I haven't—"

"Madam Red." The group looked up at the top of the stairs where a young boy, no more than twelve years old, stood. An eyepatch covered his right eye and he stood with the air of a man thrice his age. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" he asked, starting to descend the stairs.

Grell leaned over, whispering to Madelina, "For one so young, he already has such a commanding presence!"

She nodded in agreement. "I'm sure Angelina's told you why that is."

They nodded.

"I actually have a little favor to ask of you, my sweet nephew," Red chirped, going over and hugging Ciel when he had reached the bottom of the stairs. "You see, I've hired a new butler, but he's utterly hopeless at his job so far." She motioned over at Grell. "I was wondering if you'd allow Sebastian to take him under his wing for the day so he could learn a thing or two?" She winked playfully at the boy. "After all, you can't refuse a request from your favorite aunt, now can you?"

Ciel's brow rose. "I could, actually," he replied, his voice lacking humor.

She pouted. "Which is why I've come prepared with a bribe: One of Maddie's scrumptious dark chocolate-raspberry tortes."

Madelina smiled and held out the wider of the two tins as Ciel's gaze fell on her. "Made fresh this morning just for you, my lord," she chirped.

The young lord cleared his throat before taking the tin and opening it. His eye widened slightly as he saw the chocolatey delight within before quickly closing it up again. "I suppose we can take Grell for the day, then," he stated. He then looked back to his aunt. "Will you be staying as well, Madam?"

"As much as I'd love to, I'm afraid I've got work to do," she sighed. "I've some house-calls to make on post-surgery patients today. But I _will_ be leaving Maddie here so she can stock your larder up with delicious treats."

Madelina glanced over at the butler, watching as he stiffened ever so slightly at this news. With a small curtsy, she excused herself to head down to the kitchens, where she knew the other servants were at. As she walked down the stairs, she could hear voices echoing up the passageway.

"Sebastian's already told me I have to prune the hedges today," came a boy's voice. "But I _also _have to weed the vegetable garden. I'm not sure how he expects me to get both done, seein' as we've got so many hedges…"

"When I'm done polishing the bannisters and doing the dusting, I'll help you with the garden." This time, the voice was female.

"Yeah, I'll try to help you, too, Finny. With Sebastian and the young master going into town for part of the day, I won't have to worry about trying to make anything for lunch." This voice clearly belonged to a man—but a man with a foreign accent.

"_Oh, ho, ho~_" came the voice of an elderly man.

Reaching the bottom step, Madelina grinned. "Good morning, everyone!" she chirped, her sudden presence startling the bunch. "I've brought you all some pie to snack on!"

"Miss Maddie!" The teenager, Finny, bolted from his spot and ran over to her. Easily scooping the small woman up, he hugged her, spinning them around in a circle as he did so. "When did you get here?"

"About ten minutes ago," she laughed, having to hold the tin above her head to keep it from getting crushed between them. "I'm going to be here for most of the day while Sebastian trains Angelina's new butler." She looked up as her hand was suddenly relieved of the tin.

Opening the lid of the tin, the man asked, "She's got herself a butler now? I thought she said having you around was enough?" He smelled the pie, a grin spreading across his lips. "Oh, this smells _delicious_, Maddie—what kind of pie is it? And can we have some now?

"Cherry-citrus and of _course_ you can! Careful you don't get any cigarette ash in it, though, Bardroy."

Once Finny set her down, Mei-Rin, the maid, hurried over and gave Madelina a hug as well. "I was hoping you'd be visiting again soon," she told her. "It's nice havin' a bit of female company around now and again."

"I don't doubt it is!" Madelina agreed as she gave the maid a small squeeze. "With five men around, I'm sure it can get frustrating at times." Stepping back from Mei-Rin, she went over to a small old man who, despite being in a chair, sat on his knees at the end of the table. In his hands, he held a steaming mug of tea. Madelina smiled and gave him a hug as well.

"_Oh, ho, ho~"_

"I'm glad you're doing well, too, Tanaka," she chuckled. She had known the old man the longest of the servants—she had met him when she had first started working for Red whereas the others she had met just over two years ago. Turning back around, she then frowned. "Bardroy, don't eat the pie straight from the tin!"

He frowned in turn, already chewing a large forkful of pie. "But I'm hungry! And you said I could eat some now!"

"You did say that, Miss Maddie," said Finny, who was on his tiptoes beside Bard. He dipped his own fork into the pie before scooping out a large bite. With a wide grin, he popped it into his mouth, a pleased sound leaving his throat as he wiggled happily.

Mei-Rin nodded in agreement. "We haven't had the chance to eat yet. Sebastian usually makes breakfast after giving us our daily chore list, but I suppose he got called away by Madam Red before he had the chance to get anything ready."

Brow rising, Madelina looked between the four servants. "What do you mean, he hasn't made breakfast yet? Isn't _Bardroy _the cook here?"

At that, Bard's cheeks grew hot and he glanced away. "Ah, yeah, about that…I may be forbidden from making breakfast anymore. Apparently, usin' a flamethrower to not only light up the stoves in the morning, but to also fry up some eggs and toast, isn't a very good idea…"

"And it leaves the mansion smelling awful for _hours_," Finny added, sticking his tongue out in disgust at the memory.

Mei-Rin shook her head, sighing heavily. "A shame, really. He was finally getting the hang of pancakes."

"But…it isn't Sebastian's job to do the cooking," Madelina said, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Yes, it's his job to make the tea, but—" She was interrupted as Sebastian came down the stairs.

"Ah, Miss Madelina, I'm glad to see that you haven't started baking yet," he said to her. Despite the polite smile on his face, Madelina could tell he was straining to remain pleasant. "I humbly request you do your baking in the main kitchen as I will be using the inner kitchen."

"I can do that," she replied, her voice a bit on the cool side.

Sebastian then looked past her (which wasn't hard, given her height) at the other servants. "I will have your breakfast ready after I get the young master's prepared."

"If you'd like, I can make them breakfast," Madelina offered. "It'd be no trouble, really, since I'm going to be cooking most of the day anyway."

"Very well then," he said with a nod. "By the way, Grell is tending to the young master's tea. I hope you've at _least _taught him how to do that correctly." He turned, moving to head through the archway that lead into the smaller inner kitchen.

Her brow rose as she watched him walk away. "Of course I have," she grumbled. Shaking her head, she looked up at the three servants. "So," she asked, her tone becoming much more chipper, "what would you lot like for breakfast?"

Finny's hand shot into the air. "Can we have French toast?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"With a side of bacon?" Bard grinned.

"And maybe some sort of berry sauce?" Mei-Rin suggested.

Madelina laughed. "I'll need your most stale bread and a nice, big bowlful of berries," she told them. "And, of course, some bacon."

"I'll go get the berries!" Finny chirped before running off.

"And I'll find you some bread," Mei-Rin smiled before ducking into the same archway that Sebastian had gone down.

"An' I'll go fetch you some bacon," Bard chuckled, starting to head towards the main kitchen. "I'm afraid we don't have any already sliced, but it shouldn't take me long to cut some up." He then paused, glancing over his shoulder to find Madelina following him. "Er…would you rather it be American style bacon or British rashers?" he asked.

She chuckled, surprised he would ask for clarification—being that they were in Britain, most would assume she wanted the rasher style. "American," she answered. "I'm not overly fond of how lean rashers are." She continued to follow him as he started walking once more. "I'm surprised you've even got cured pork belly on hand."

"We've a few different kinds of cured and aged meat on hand," he grinned. "Sebastian's tried his hand at preserving meats, but he's not too good at it—surprising, I know, since he's so good at everything else." Entering the kitchen, he instinctively went into the pantry only to emerge with a stool for her. "When he found out I'm fairly decent at it, though, he put me in charge of tending to the meats. As such, I've made sure to keep a good supply of American bacon on hand."

"Smart man," she smiled, watching as he set the stool down beside the counter for her. "Thank you."

His grin only seemed to broaden. "Anything else you need me to get before I run off to get the meat, Miss Maddie?"

She pointed at a copper bowl hanging from a hook. "That bowl would be lovely."

With ease, he reached up and remove it from the hook for her. "There you go. I'll be back in a jiffy."

As he headed down to the cellar to retrieve the pork belly, Madelina pulled a bowl filled with eggs towards her. Doing a quick count of how many there were (more than enough), she then went over to the icebox and brought out the bottle of cream before hunting out the spices she would need.

By the time Bard returned, Madelina was standing on the stool, whisking away at a half dozen eggs. Mei-Rin had also returned with a loaf of stale bread; Bard recognized it as one Sebastian had made earlier in the week only to lose track of its whereabouts during a bout of chaos.

"So, we've got the bread and the bacon—now we just need Finny to get back with the berries," Mei-Rin smiled. She was using a serrated knife to saw the loaf into nice, thick slices.

"Did he even take a bowl out with him?" Bard asked, his brow rising. He went to grab a knife and a cutting board for the meat. He wasn't sure if she wanted thick cut or thin cut bacon—but it _was _American style. The thicker the cut, the better!

A small laugh left Madelina's mouth as she added a bit of cream to the eggs. "I don't think so. He seemed too focused on the fact he was going to be eating French toast to remember that he'd need a bowl or bucket."

Mei-Rin frowned slightly. "Oh dear. That means he'll probably be usin' his shirt to carry them all. Berry juice is _so _hard to get out of white cloth…"

Barely half a minute later, the door burst open as Finny came hurrying in. "I have the berries!" he cried victoriously. In his hands, he held his hat—which was filled with various kinds of berries. From the looks of it, though, strawberries and blueberries seemed to be the most prevalent. "I even gave them a good washing and took all the leaves off the strawberries before I brought them in! What should I do with them, Miss Maddie?"

"Put them in a little saucepot with a bit of sugar and a touch of water, dear," she chuckled. She tapped a bit of cinnamon and nutmeg into the eggs and cream as well as a dash of vanilla extract. "Then put it on the stove and gently stir it."

"How much would 'a bit' of sugar count as?" he asked, grabbing a copper pot from the wall. He carefully dumped the berries into it, smiling; he could already taste the delicious sauce they would make.

"Hmmm…" She paused in her whisking as she thought over her cooking process for berry sauces. "Let's see, I usually use about a handful sprinkled overtop the berries, but your hand's about twice the size of mine…So, I think a _small _handful of sugar should do it."

Finny nodded in understanding. "Small handful. Got it!" He carried the saucepot into the pantry with him.

Mei-Rin quietly giggled; with the bread all sliced, she started to use her hand to gather up the crumbs. "He doesn't get to help in the kitchen very often," she told Madelina. "Seein' him all excited like this is adorable."

"Can't blame him," Bard snorted. "The kid's excited for French toast. So am I! It's been a long while since I've had a good plate of French toast and bacon."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're all excited for a bit of breakfast," Madelina laughed. She looked over at the stack of sliced bread only to pause for a moment. Mei-Rin hadn't cut the slices very evenly, so some were much thicker than others. 'That's alright,' she told herself. 'She's a maid, not a cook. And it's not like it really matters much—it's all going to get eaten in the end.'

Emerging from the pantry, Finny brought the pot over to Madelina to inspect. "Did I do it right?" he asked, holding it low enough for her to look into. "I may have added a bit too much sugar…"

"It looks fine to me," she assured him. "Now, just a splash of water and onto the stove it goes. Don't forget to _gently _stir it." She knew she had to put some emphasis on the word 'gently'; Finny was remarkably strong for his young age and could sometimes overdo things in his enthusiasm.

"Yes, Miss Maddie!"

"Can one of you please grab me a pan?" Madelina asked, layering the toast in the egg mixture. She wasn't too worried about the bread becoming too soggy; it was stale enough that it was _hard_. The soak would do it some good.

Mei-Rin went over to the pot rack. "Which would you like, Miss Maddie?" she asked.

"That big, flat one."

"This one?" She pointed at a wide saucepan with relatively low sides. "Or do you mean this one?" She pointed at a griddle pan that was just as wide.

"The latter, please," she smiled. "Actually—I think both. We can use the other pan for the bacon."

Mei-Rin nodded and, grabbing both pans, she carried them over to the stove.

"Which is thick-cut American style, by the way," Bard grinned. "Nice, thick, fatty slices of flavor! None of that lean British stuff. We're havin' us a nice, hearty breakfast today!"

Finny laughed. "Don't let Sebastian hear you say that. You know how he gets if you insult his portion sizes."

"But they're so _tiny_!" Mei-Rin half-whispered. "How does he expect us to be able to run around all day on two bites of porridge and a garnish of a single raisin?" Grabbing the crock of butter, she added a nice spoonful to the pan for the toast.

Madelina's eyes widened in surprise. "Wh-what? That's _all_ he feeds you for a meal?!"

The three Phantomhive servants looked at her, before chuckling guiltily.

"Ah, we may be exaggerating the small portions a bit," Bard told her.

Finny nodded in agreement. "They're alright-sized portions, we promise!"

"It's just…we'd like to have bigger portions at times," Mei-Rin said, shyly poking her fingers together. "That way we don't have to stop and have us a snack so often throughout the day."

Madelina shook her head and sighed as she plucked a piece of egg-soaked bread out of the bowl. "Breakfasts should always be a nice, big, hearty meal," she said. Setting it on the griddle, she used her fingers to move it around in the melted butter for a few seconds before pushing it off to the side. She did the same thing to two more pieces of bread before wiping her fingers off on her apron. "I don't know when small portions became in fashion, but they're more of a nuisance than anything."

"I know!" Bard agreed, bringing his cutting board covered in strips of bacon over to the stove. "I bet it was the French who started it. They start all the weird trends involving small things. Small portions, small waists, small skirts…" He chuckled as Mei-Rin lightly smacked him with a tea towel.

Finny frowned slightly as he looked between the two. "Small skirts?" he repeated, cheeks turning slightest bit red. "You mean like Miss Ran-Mao's skirt?" He stepped aside as Madelina came over to inspect the berry mixture. He smiled proudly when she patted his back before heading off to get a spatula.

"_Exactly _like her small skirt." He laughed as Mei-Rin continued to smack him with the tea towel while he laid the strips of bacon out in the pan.

Returning with the spatula, Madelina slid it under the first piece of French toast so she could check to see how it was cooking. "_Except _the Chinese have been wearing that style of outfit for centuries," she explained. "Since the mid-1600s, at least. Though, usually, the cheongsams are longer than Miss Ran-Mao's. _Much _longer."

The three servants look at her again, this time in confusion.

"How do you know that, Miss Maddie?" Finny asked, his head tilting ever so slightly.

Mei-Rin nodded in agreement. "I'm half Chinese myself and I didn't even know that. That's a bit of a random thing to know here in the West."

Madelina blinked before chuckling. "Oh, one of the maids I used to work with under Angeli—Er, Baroness Burnett—was from China," she told them. "She often complained about how restrictive our Western clothing is."

Bard and Finny looked down at their clothes—simple shirts and trousers—and inspected them. "I don't see how our clothes are restrictive," Bard murmured, swishing his trouser legs a bit.

In coincidental unison, Madelina and Mei-Rin knocked on their stomachs. What should have been a nearly silent tap was instead a firm-sounding rap thanks to their corsets. The two males looked at them in shock.

"There's a reason us womenfolk are told to bend at the hips, not at the waist," Mei-Rin said with a small frown. "There's all sorts of steel or reed boning in these to keep our backs nice and upright." She shook her head. "Don't get me wrong—they're comfortable in some respects, but absolutely useless if you're trying to reach the silk kerchief you dropped while ironing."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Bard set his other hand on his hip. "I knew corsets were stiff things to wear, but I didn't think they'd be made with steel and reeds…"

"Um…maybe we should talk about something else?" Finny questioned, his cheeks bright pink. "Somethin' that _isn't _a lady's undergarments?" He continued to stir the saucepot, which was now filled by a mixture of berries and the juice they were releasing.

An apologetic smile came to Madelina's lips; she had nearly forgotten that the poor lad was only in his teens and shouldn't be hearing such talk. "How are the berries looking?" she asked him, hearing Bard and Mei-Rin chuckle.

"Alright, I think. There's a lot of juice in the pot now. Should I start mashin' the berries up a bit?"

"That depends. Would you prefer the sauce to have chunks of berries or would you like it to be smooth, Mei-Rin?"

Mei-Rin's eyes widened and her cheeks turned a bit pink. "O-Oh, I'm not sure…I don't really mind either way. What do you think, Bard? Finny?"

Bard grinned. "I like 'em left as intact as possible," he said. Pulling a pair of tongs from his apron, he started to turn over the sizzling bacon. "I like being able to taste the different berries instead of them being all muddled together."

"Then I'll leave them whole," Finny chirped. He looked back into the pot, continuing to slowly and gently stir it. It seemed that it was taking him a great deal of concentration to keep himself from getting overly with the stirring.

Soon enough, the Phantomhive servants had plates stacked with bacon and French toast sitting before them. They were making quick work of devouring the food—save for Tanaka, who was eating his in a leisurely manner. Madelina, having already ate, sat at the table with a cup of tea in hand.

"Now _this _is a breakfast." Bard shoved an entire piece of bacon and a bite of French toast into his mouth, grinning away as he chewed it. After somehow managing to chew it and swallow it without choking, he took a drink of tea to wash it down. "It's a shame the young master doesn't poach you from Madam Red," he told Madelina. "It'd be nice to have a breakfast like this every morning."

Mei-Rin heartily nodded in agreement. "Not that Mister Sebastian's cookin' ain't good—he's an _excellent _chef! But it's usually the same old porridge or eggs, beans, and tomatoes for us." She took a dainty bite of her French toast, making sure to soak it in the berry sauce. Behind her thick glasses, her eyes closed as she chewed; this was a _delicious _change in breakfast. "French toast was a good idea, Finny."

Finny, his mouth full of food, heartily nodded in agreement.

_"Oh, ho, ho~"_

Madelina chuckled, her brow raised. "Well, I'm glad you all are enjoying it," she told them. She took a sip of her tea, her hands wrapped around the warm ceramic. It wasn't particularly cold in the servants' ward, but the heat was still welcomed by the small woman. "Maybe the next time you're all in London for an extended stay, I'll sneak over and make you breakfast again."

"Oh, that'd be right lovely, it would," Mei-Rin smiled. "And with us being able to get more fresh ingredients thanks to bein' in town—"

She was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of Sebastian. He gave them all a polite smile. "The young master would like to speak with all of you," he told them. "He has some amendments to make to your chore list for the day."

"Can't we finish eatin' our breakfast, first?" Bard asked, frowning. Despite his inquiry, he had a feeling he knew what Sebastian's answer would be and, as such, shoved another large bite of food into his mouth.

The butler's nose scrunched up ever so slightly in disgust. "Bardroy, how many times do I have to tell you to _not_ take such large bites?" he scolded. "One of these days, you're going to choke and die—and that would be a most unpleasant mess to clean up. With that said, the young master would like to see you _immediately_."

Setting his tea down, Tanaka slid from his chair and, with his usual blissfully-happy expression, started to frolic his way upstairs.

The other three servants, in a far less pleased manner, abandoned their breakfasts and started to head up the stairs. Madelina followed suit, though she intended to check on Grell to see how they were doing.

Sebastian's brow rose. "There's no need for you to accompany them, Miss Madelina," he told her, following after them.

"I'd like to check in on Grell if you don't mind," she replied. "They were a bit of a nervous wreck on the way here, so I'd like to make sure they're doing alright." She looking over her shoulder, she gave him a forced smile.

"I suppose that is acceptable," he replied, his tone a forced sort of polite. She knew he disliked her just as much as she disliked him. "Grell should be arriving in the dining room shortly, so you may wait there with the other servants."

She nodded in understanding, finding no need to say anything further. The less she had to talk to him, the better. It always baffled her how everyone could be so enamored by this butler when he had such a strange aura about him.

'There's just something so _dark _about him,' she thought to herself as she reached the top of the stairs. 'Everyone has some hint of darkness to them, but he seems to have more than most. Unless, of course, he _wasn't _human.' She almost laughed aloud at the thought. 'But I've been around enough nonhumans to know he _isn't _one.' Coming into the dining room, she moved to stand slightly behind Finny and Mei-Rin; after all, she wasn't here to be debriefed on chores.

"Since we've unexpected guests today," Ciel said, cutting up a bite of his own breakfast, "I'd like for you all to keep an eye on Grell while Sebastian and I are in town. It should be a relatively short trip, so I trust you lot to be able to handle things for _that _long." He glanced over at his four servants and Madelina; if it weren't for her hair, he wouldn't have been able to see her behind Finny and Mei-Rin. "Miss Madelina, I trust you'll be able to help them keep watch over Grell, as well? I know you wanted to get some baking done."

"Of course, my lord," she replied with a smile. "If it's only a short trip, I should still have plenty of timing for baking."

"The torte was delicious as always, by the way," he added.

Her smile grew slightly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, my lord," she replied. Her brow then rose as she heard distant yelling…that was steadily getting closer. Realizing who was doing the yelling, she groaned and let her face fall into her palm.

Before anyone could ask why she had done such a thing, the door burst open. Clinging onto a serving cart for dear life as it crashed into the room was Grell, a look of sheer terror on their face. The cart sped right for the servants and, while Bard, Madelina, and Mei-Rin were able to get out of the way, Finny wasn't.

Both the cart and Finny crashed to the ground. Seconds later, Finny was back on his feet, holding his shirt away from his torso as he cried out in a mixture of pain and panic; a teapot was slowly spilling tea onto the carpet where he had just been sitting. In his hopping about, though, he failed to see a tea sauce and slipped on it. There was a small thud as he landed on his bum.

"Oh, I'm so, _so_ sorry!" Grell cried, rushing over to him. They reached up, grabbing what they _thought _was a cloth napkin from the tabletop. "Here, I'll wipe it off—" But the napkin, as it turned out, _wasn't_ a napkin at all.

It was, however, a decorative piece of the tablecloth.

Madelina watched in horror as the majority of Ciel's breakfast was pulled down onto the floor as Grell attempted to help Finny. 'Oh my gods,' she thought, her eyes wide. 'How in the world did they manage to do so much damage in such a short amount of time?! And how did they even manage to get stuck on the cart like that in the first place!?'

As the three Phantomhive servants gave Grell scolding looks, Grell shrank back from them. "I'm so sorry for causing all of this trouble," they told them, voice wavering slightly as they did their best to keep themselves from crying. "I simply don't know how I could apologize enough." And then, a look of realization overcame their features. "Wait! That's _it! _The only thing I can do now is _die_!" From seemingly nowhere, they drew a knife from their person and held it over their heart. "I shall atone with my death!" they cried out dramatically.

"Grell, what are you _thinking_?!" Madelina cried, darting forward to stop them.

"Whoa, calm down a second!" Bard cried, also lunging forward.

"Um…should we take the knife away?" Mei-Rin squeaked, unsure of what to do.

Before either Bard or Madelina could reach Grell, however, Sebastian appeared at their side. He placed a hand upon Grell's shoulder and politely smiled down at them. "There is no need for that," he said, his voice surprisingly kind and gentle.

Grell turned and looked up at the head butler; Madelina could see both attraction and awe filling their green eyes as they did a quick look over of Sebastian.

"Just think of the horrible mess you would make," Sebastian continued, his kind smile turning into a mischievous one. "It'd take _hours_ to clean up all the blood."

With complete and total admiration in their eyes, Grell quickly nodded in agreement. "Thank you, Sebastian," they told him, voice betraying the wonder they felt. "You're so very kind."

Madelina's brow slowly rose. 'That wasn't kind whatsoever,' she thought. Glancing over at the other three servants, she heard Bard point out the same thing.

"Now what I would like to know," Sebastian sighed, moving to pick up the fallen teapot as well as the container of loose tea leaves, "is why you ever thought it would be acceptable to serve the young master such very weak tea." He then shot Madelina a look. "I thought you said you taught them how to make a proper cup of tea?" Shaking his head, he opening the canister of tea. "Watch me, Grell." He carefully started to scoop the loose tea into the pot. "A spoonful for each person, plus one extra for the pot. Add half a pint of boiling water and let steep until dark."

'Half a pint is only a cup,' Madelina thought, her brow rising. 'That's far too strong a brew unless you're only making it for one person. Then again, I suppose things are different here—the servants don't have tea with the master, unlike back home.' She glanced over at the others, finding them listening to the butler with the greatest of intent.

Sebastian then looked over at Ciel. "Master, are you ready? It's almost time. I have the carriage waiting for you in the front drive."

Nodding, Ciel let out a sigh. "Fine."

As he left the room, Sebastian turned to them all again. "As for the rest of you," he said, "I want this place absolutely spotless, understand?" Bard, Finny, and Mei-Rin nodded hurriedly. "Grell, perhaps you should sit there and relax so you don't cause any more trouble."

Grell, still staring at him longingly, nodded heartily.

"And Miss Madelina?" He turned to her, wearing a forced smile. "If Grell _does_ decide to seek their eternal rest, please see to it that they do _outside_, would you? And do try to make sure they don't make _too _big of a mess." He then left the room, following his young master to the front of the house.

"What generosity," Grell sighed. "What kindness!"

Shaking her head, Madelina went over to them and started to pull them to their feet. "That wasn't kind of him at all," she grumbled. "Now, come on, Grell. We've got quite the mess to pick up."

As if snapping out of a trance, Grell looked around at the room. It was, quite frankly, a mess, with food and tea spilled everywhere. A few of the dishes had even broken, leaving shards on the carpet.

"Oh my…I really did make quite a mess," they frowned. They looked over at the other servants, a most apologetic look on their face. "I'm truly sorry for this," they told them. "I'll get started on cleaning this up right now!" Kneeling on the ground, they started to pick up the bits of shattered porcelain.

With a quiet sigh, Madelina rubbed her forehead. "This is going to be a _long _day…"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Sorry this took a while to finish...Go figure, as soon as I get started on this thing, I'm overwhelmed by a hyperfixation on the Avengers for the first time in ages x_x

* * *

"There we go…last of the raspberry thumbprint biscuits are finally out of the oven." Madelina grinned as she pulled the piping-hot tray of cookies from the oven. The aroma of warm raspberry jam mixed with the smell of the various other baked goods she had already made, leaving the kitchen smelling extra delicious. "Now, to let these cool for a little while before adding the icing drizzle…" She put the tray down on a cooling rack before going back over to the oven and closing the door.

After Ciel and Sebastian had left, she, Grell, and the other servants had tidied up the room as best they could. It had been a bit of an arduous process; some of the stains left by the turned-over plate of food had already begun to set it, leaving them scurrying to try and lift them out of the carpet.

When they felt that they had cleaned the room well enough that it would _mostly _pass Sebastian's inspection, it was decided that, for his own safety, Grell would be taken outside to help Finny with the gardening. Tanaka, Mei-Rin, and Bard joined them, wanting to keep an eye on the inexperienced 'butler'. As such, Madelina was left all by her lonesome in the kitchen—but she didn't mind. As much as she appreciated the help with breakfast, she got things done much faster without the help.

If only because she didn't have to think about how to convert the recipes in her head into a recipe that would work for people twice her size. After all, a pinch of nutmeg to her was _much_ smaller than a pinch of nutmeg to, say, Bard. Or a handful of sugar to her was half the size of a handful of sugar to Mei-Rin.

'Yet another downside to being as short as I am,' she thought, hopping up on the stool so she could wash out a mixing bowl that she had been soaking in warm water. 'I have to keep the units child-sized instead of adult sized.' She shook her head as she scrubbed the bowl with a soapy cloth. 'There really should be a standardized method of measuring for such things. They've already done it with cups—why not do it with teaspoons and the like, too?'

Rinsing the bowl, she then grabbed a towel to dry it off. 'I wonder if I should make them some lemonade?' she thought. 'It's fairly warm out there, after all, and trimming hedges can be tiring work…' She glanced over at a bowl of lemons; she had been eyeing them the last few hours. Red wasn't a fan of sour things, so she didn't often get to use the fruit when cooking or baking. 'A shame, really…There are so many delicious things I can make with them. And preserved lemons are _delicious_ when used properly…'

Her mind made up, she went in search of a pitcher.

Not long after, she was carrying a tray of cookies, glasses, a sugar bowl, and the pitcher of lemonade outside. Spotting the group of servants, she walked towards them. Finny was trimming the grass beneath the hedges and Grell was trimming the hedges themselves. Meanwhile, Mei-Rin raked up the clippings.

Bard…was lounging on the grass, smoking a cigarette.

And where Tanaka was, she hadn't the slightest idea.

As she drew closer, Bard caught sight of her. A broad grin spread across his face. "Looks like the refreshment fairy's come to grace us with her presence," he told the others.

"Yes, but this refreshment fairy only serves people who are working," she teased, carefully kneeling down on the grass. She set the tray down and started to fill the glasses with lemonade.

Bard pouted. "Hey now—I _was _working! I'm just pausing for a small smoke break is all!"

"Mhm, I'm sure you are, Bardroy," she joked.

Mei-Rin giggled as she leaned the handle of the rake against one of the shrubs. "He's tellin' the truth, Miss Maddie," she said, kneeling down to start passing out the glasses that had been filled. "He's just on a smoke break after helping Grell with the trimming."

"I _told _you!" He thanked Mei-Rin as she handed a glass of lemonade to him.

"Alright, alright—I believe you," Madelina chuckled. "_This _time. Next time, however…."

Sticking his tongue out, Bard blew a raspberry at her.

"You two act more like children than actual children," Finny laughed, sitting down. He used his sleeve to wipe his forehead off before taking one of the glasses of lemonade. Taking a drink, he made a noise of pleasant surprise; the drink was a touch more sour than sweet, which he found rather refreshing.

Grell came over, looking at the pitcher curiously. "Is that lemonade, Maddie?" they asked, moving to join the others on the grass. "Oh, I do hope you didn't make it _too _sour…"

"I brought sugar if it is too sour for your liking," Madelina assured them. "I know I like my lemonade to be more sour than sweet, which isn't to everyone's tastes. I did try my best to make sure this batch was a good mixture of both, though."

"I think it's perfect," Finny chirped. He watched as Bard and Grell leaned over, taking turns adding sugar into their glasses.

Mei-Rin, however, took a long drink from hers and smiled happily. "I wouldn't mind it being a bit more tart meself, but this is still really good, Miss Maddie. Thank you for bringing it out!"

"And for bringing biscuits, too!" Finny grinned, plucking up one of the cookies. He took a bite of it; it was still warm and slightly gooey in the middle.

"I just thought you lot could use a little snack since it's been a few hours since breakfast." She brushed a stray curl behind her ear. "The hedges are looking quite nice so far!" Of course, she had only seen them from the back. If she were to see them from the front, she would know that Grell had accidentally managed to trim them all into the shapes of skulls.

Grell plucked up a cookie and dipped it into their lemonade before taking a bite of it. "I was afraid I wasn't doing a good job," they admitted. "But I find it easier than making a cup of tea, apparently." He shook his head. "I don't understand it. When I brewed that tea, I made it just how you had instructed me! How could it be weak?"

"The young's master very particular about his tea," Bard explained. "He likes it stronger than most people do—_way _stronger." He scrunched his nose up slightly. "Don't know how anyone could like weak tea, let alone _strong_ tea."

"Spoken like a true American," Mei-Rin giggled, her brow rising. She looked at Madelina, still laughing quietly. "He prefers coffee."

"I don't know why," Finny said. "It tastes really bitter." He stuck his tongue out in disgust.

"It's supposed to taste like that," Bard grinned. "The flavor is part of what wakes a person up in the morning!" He took a bite from a cookie. "Back in America, we knew a pot of coffee was good when you could put a horseshoe in it and it stayed upright."

A look of repulsion came to Madelina's face. "Well, no wonder your coffee tastes horrible: you've got dirt and dung floating around in it from the horseshoes!"

At that, Bard pouted. "Hey now! We used _clean _horseshoes that come fresh from the farrier."

"You—you mean you _really _use horseshoes in your coffee in America?" Grell asked, unsure whether they should believe Bard or not. "I've heard other Americans use that expression about what they call 'cowboy coffee', but you don't really sound like a cowboy. They say 'Yeehaw!' and 'howdy partner' a lot, don't they?"

Bard snorted. "No, I'm not a cowboy. Not even close, actually. I come from Vermont." He pulled a cigarette case from his pocket and opened it. "The state of mountains and maple syrup. Though, I _can_ do a fairly convincing cowboy accent."

Grell tilted their head as they took a sip of their lemonade. "Oh? Can we hear it?"

In a theatric manner, Bard cleared his throat before speaking in a very stereotypical cowboy 'accent'. "Howdy, partner! Don't you go worryin' about bitin' off more than you can chew, 'cause your mouth is probably a whole lot bigger'n you think. Also, lettin' the cat out'a the bag is a whole lot easier 'n putting it back." He grinned as he heard the giggles coming from the group. "Oh, an' if you get thrown from a horse, you have t' get back up and get back on—unless you landed on a cactus. Then ya have to roll around'n scream in pain. Yeehaw!"

Finny fell backwards as he laughed and Mei-Rin was doubled over with giggles. Grell stared at Bard with a mixture of awe and concern while Madelina had covered her mouth to keep herself from spitting out the drink of lemonade she had just taken. As he saw all of their various reactions, Bard grinned proudly. It wasn't very often such laughing fits took place on the Phantomhive estate and knowing that he had been the cause of one made him more than a little happy.

"I never—I never knew you could sound so silly!" Finny wheezed through his laughter.

"At least, not like _that _kind of silly," Mei-Rin giggled. "There are times when you take yourself too seriously and you sound ridiculous. But this?" Her cheeks were flushed from laughing so much.

Grell shook their head, chuckling. "I didn't understand _half _of what you just said," they admitted, "but the accent was most certainly amusing!"

Having finally been able to swallow her lemonade without fear of choking on it or it being forced out her nose, Madelina smiled. "He essentially told us a bunch of cautionary phrases," she explained. "Ones that I'm fairly sure are meant to be more humorous than serious." She risked taking another drink of her lemonade.

"Hey now—don't go doubting the wise words of the cowboys, Miss Maddie," Bard playfully scolded. "You never know when you'll have to bag up a cat or you get bucked off a horse and thrown into a cactus!"

"Hopefully I'll never have to do either of those," she laughed. "Especially since there _aren't_ any cactus in Britain!"

"Well, sounds like I'll just have to have some imported just in case, then." Pulling a book of matches from his pocket, he finally lit up his cigarette. For a brief few seconds, the immediate area smelled like matches before it was replaced by the diluted scent of tobacco.

Madelina _almost _asked for a cigarette, but the thought of smoking plain, unflavored tobacco made her inwardly wince. She much preferred fruit-flavored tobaccos, such as cherry or apple. But they could be hard to find. As such, she didn't smoke very often.

That wasn't to say she wasn't tempted to ask Bard for a cigarette—but she was able to resist the urge.

Finishing her drink, she let out a quiet sigh and looked around. "I should probably get back to the kitchen," she said. "I don't know when Ange—Baroness Burnett—will be finished with her various house calls, so I'd like to get a few more batches of bicuits or a few more cakes made."

Finny wore a hopeful expression as he looked over at her. "Some of them are for us, I hope!"

"A _lot _of them are for you servants," she told him with a wink. Standing up, she smoothed out her skirts. "I have a feeling it'll get gobbled up in no time—I do hope you remember to leave some for Tanaka and the young Earl."

"Of course we will," Mei-Rin assured her. "As much as we love sweets, we know to save some for the young master. Anyway, it's mostly Finny we have to worry about eating everything."

An embarrassed pout came to Finny's face.

Madelina gave him a pitying smile. "The poor thing can't help it. He's a growing boy, after all! He needs the extra food," she said. She turned, leaving the group of servants and head back towards the manor. As she entered the building, all seemed to be the same as how she had left it.

But as she drew closer to the kitchen, she frowned. She could hear voices coming from the entrance hall. It was hard to make out the voices from where she stood, but one most definitely belonged to a child while the other belonged to an adult. Thinking it just Ciel and Sebastian returning from their errand, she started down the steps to the kitchen.

She was in the middle of mixing up a brownie batter when she could hear the sound feet hurrying down the stairs. Her brow rose; they sounded too fast and too small to be any of the servants. Was it the young master, rushing his way down to get more baked goods…?

"Miss Madelina!" a young, female voice squealed.

Madelina's eyes widened and she spun around just in time to be latched onto by a blur of blonde, orange, and white. She grunted, the air very nearly getting knocked out of her lungs; she found herself thankful that she hadn't been on her stool. Otherwise, she would have surely fallen backwards.

"L-Lady Elizabeth! What are you doing here?" she wheezed. Though she had been hugged many times in the past by the young woman, it had been some years since she last saw her. She now wondered if Elizabeth had always been this strong or if the young woman merely considered her an oversized plush doll.

It certainly felt like the latter.

"Oh, Miss Madelina, it's been _ages _since I last saw you!" Elizabeth giggled. "I must say, I really wasn't expecting you to be here, either—Did Ciel manage to poach you from Auntie Angelina?" She released Madelina just enough to lean back and look the woman over.

"N-No, actually, I'm just here for the day, my lady," she breathed, thankful that her ribs were no longer being squeezed. "Baroness Burnett has a new butler and he's supposed to be getting trained by Sebastian—once Sebastian and Lord Phantomhive return from their errands in town, that is."

"Well, how absolutely boring!" she pouted. "Since Auntie Angelina doesn't visit as often anymore, I had hoped Ciel poached you so I could have your sweets more often!" She looked past Madelina, her eyes widening as she saw the batches of cookies and the few cakes she had cooling on the counter. "And speaking of your oh-so-delicious sweets…!"

Madelina watched as Elizabeth hurried over and snatched up a handful of cookies before taking a bite out of one. Rubbing her arm, the chef watched her with a mixture of curiosity and nervousness.

"Lady Elizabeth? May I ask as to why you're here?"

"Oh, to see Ciel, of course!" she answered. "I had been hoping he was home, since I sneaked away when mother and Paula were distracted. But with him gone, that gives me time to decorate!"

Her brow rose. "…De-decorate, my lady?" She knew how particular the young earl was; she was positive he wouldn't take too kindly to finding his mansion decorated for anything—let alone by his young fiancée.

"Yes, of course! It's been so long since I've seen Ciel, and the last time I saw him, he saw in _such _a dour mood! And no wonder! Have you seen how dreary and dark this mansion of his is?"

"Actually, my lady, I find it quite—"

"It's positively _depressing_!" Elizabeth continued, either not hearing Madelina or choosing to ignore her. "As such, I'm taking the liberty of doing a bit of redecorating. By the time he comes back, I'm going to have everything looking cute and happy!"

Madelina inwardly cringed. "Are you sure that's a good idea, my lady? Lord Phantomhive seems to enjoy his home just the way it is."

She dismissively waved her hand at the slightly shorter cook. "Oh, pish-posh. Once he seems _my _decorating skills, he'll be in love with his new interior and have me do the rest of the house!" She giggled confidently. "I need the help of the other servants, however. Do you happen to know where they're at?"

Part of Madelina's mind told her to feign ignorance so she could spare them—she didn't even know if they had met Elizabeth yet. But another part of her knew that if she didn't disclose their location, the young woman could hurt herself trying to reach high places on her own. With a defeated sigh, she moved to go grab one of the shaped baking dishes from the wall.

"They're out trimming the hedges," she finally answered. "But, please, don't squeal too much around Grell; they're rather—" But as she turned around, she found herself alone in the kitchen once more. Another sigh left her mouth and she rested her forehead her palm for a few seconds. "Gods help those poor servants," she mumbled.

Less than an hour had passed when Bard, Mei-Rin, and Finny came running down into the kitchen. Finny was wearing a set of bunny ears and a pair of faux bunny paws while a baby bib and bonnet had been forced onto Bard. Mei-Rin, it looked like, had been spared from getting costumed.

"Oh, you poor dears," Madelina sighed as she looked up at the three of them. "I see Elizabeth got to you."

"Th-that girl is insane!" Mei-Rin squeaked, her hands wringing the hem of her apron. "Do you know what she's done to poor Tanaka!? She's put a blonde wig and a frilly tucker on him!"

"An' she's put me 'n Bard in these ridiculous costumes!" Finny whimpered.

"What about this ruggedly handsome face screams 'baby' to anyone!?" Bard cried. "What baby has a scruffy beard and a chiseled jaw like me?!"

Mei-Rin pouted as she looked at Bard. "Bardroy, stop exaggerating. You don't have a beard—you have _stubble_."

"It can be a scruffy beard if I don't shave for a few weeks!"

Finny shook his head, frowning. "That's not the point! The point is this crazy little girl came bargin' into the mansion and started making us put up streamers and paper hearts! All the while, telling us how we have to make sure everything is nice and cute!"

Madelina let out a quiet sigh before pulling a tray off the counter and holding it out to the three servants. On the tray was a small pile of muffins that had a slightly floral scent to them. The three each took one of the muffins, sniffling as they started to eat them.

"Chamomile-lavender muffins," she told them, "to help you calm down. Really, you three, she's just a young girl." She shook her head, setting the tray back on the counter. "I'm certain you've handled worse situations that someone like that."

"It doesn't help that Grell managed to turn the entire garden into a field of skulls," Bard grumbled.

Finny nodded. "Not sure how…We were watching them so closely!"

Madelina then paused, noticing that Grell was missing from their group. "…Where _is_ Grell?"

"In the parlor," Mei-Rin answered through a mouthful of muffin.

"Hangin' from the ceiling," Finny absentmindedly added.

Madelina's eyes widened in horror; had she heard them correctly? "He's _what_?!"

"Bein' used as a decoration by the girl. Miss Maddie, have we ever told you how delicious your baking is?"

Shaking her head, she hopped off her stool and, hiking her skirts up slightly, hurried up the stairs. As she made her way through the house, she was greeted by the sight of cartoonish animal faces crafted from paper covering the walls. There were also various other paper shapes hanging from the wall while the pillars supporting the grand staircase of the entrance hall had pink streamers coiled around them.

'Oh dear…Ciel is not going to like this one bit,' she thought, biting her lower lip. Hearing footsteps approaching from the hallway, she ducked behind one of the pillars, making sure to hold her skirts close to her body.

"Now all I need to do is get Miss Maddie to make a nice, pink chiffon cake," Elizabeth said to herself as she skipped through the hallway. "I wonder if she can draw little puppies with frosting on the cake? Ciel _loves _puppies, after all…"

Peeking out from behind the pillar, Madelina watched as Elizabeth headed towards the kitchens. A quiet sigh of relief left her mouth and she darted out from her hiding spot. Reaching the parlor door, she pushed it open only to see that Grell was, indeed, hanging from the ceiling, a noose around their neck. However, they were still very much alive, as they were quietly lamenting their inability to do anything correctly, aside from act as a pinata—whatever that was.

"Oh. Hello, Maddie," they said, looking down at her as they slightly swung back and forth from the rope. "Have you come to rescue me? I sincerely hope now. A failure of a person such as myself doesn't deserve to live."

"Shush, you," she scolded. Grabbing one of the end tables, she started to drag it towards Grell. "How you're even still alive—ugh, what does that girl think she's doing, hanging a living person as a decoration!? I _know _her mother has taught her better than this!" She shook her head as she picked up a chair and carried it over to the table.

"But I'm truly a useless lump of flesh," Grell sighed. "It would be better to just let me continue slowly dying like this so that I may not burden anyone further." They watched as Madelina climbed onto the chair and then the table. "…Maddie, dear, I'm not sure you're tall enough to even reach my shoulders…"

"Maybe not, but I have something that _will _reach past your shoulders," she sighed. Leaning over, she pulled something from the side of her boot.

Grell's eyes widened and they started to flail as they saw a long carving knife in Madelina's hand. "Do you always carry a knife that big with you!?" they cried.

"Yes, I do," she sighed. "Normally, it's for the sake of protection. Now please stop your flailing, Grell—I think I can get the rope from here, but I really don't want to cut you."

They whined. "Madelina, your efforts are truly a waste!" they cried. "Just let me hang here and slowly die in misery so that I can ruminate over my burdensome existence!"

Her brow rose. "You certainly have a lot of life left in you for someone who's supposedly dying." Standing on her tiptoes, she grabbed Grell by the ear and gave them a look that was both motherly and scolding. "Now _hold still_."

Swallowing hard, Grell did as they were told.

'This is a normal looking noose,' Madelina thought as she sawed away at the rope, 'and it's digging in like a normal rope would, but there's no sign on their face that they're choking…Perhaps they're wearing one of those harnesses that makes it _look _like the person is being hung, but in actuality, is distributing the weight over their entire body? I can't really see that far up, though—and why would they be wearing such a thing? I highly doubt Lady Elizabeth had one on hand and I doubt even more that Grell decided to put one on while dressing this morning.'

The door to the parlor opened and Sebastian and Ciel stepped into the room. They were just in time to witness the rope, having been mostly cut away by Madelina, snap under Grell's weight. There was a small crash as Grell landed on the edge of the table, knocking it and Madelina over. Luckily, the small chef had the sense of mind to toss her knife away as she fell, not wanting herself or Grell to end up stabbed. The two of them landed in a heap on the ground, the table laying atop them.

"Oh, but they made such a lovely decoration," Madelina heard Elizabeth pout.

"And they make for a _horrible _cushion…" Madelina groaned. 'How Angelina can sleep atop them, I'll never know…' she thought to herself.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Sorry this took so long to get out. 2019 has not been kind.

**Edit 12/20/19: **Realized waaay too late that i had uploaded the wrong version of this. Sorry about that. Everything's the same up until the ending.

* * *

"Angelina _really _needs to better protect her clothing during surgery…" Madelina grumbled. In one hand, she held the stained fabric of Red's dress and in the other, she held a scrub brush. Both were covered in red-tinted bubbles thanks to her scrubbing. "And it really doesn't help that the stains have set a bit…"

"Oh, Madelina!" Grell came bounding into the kitchen, their sleeves rolled up and some stains on their white shirt. "I've finished the dusting! What should I do ne—Ack!" They stopped in their tracks as they found the small chef scrubbing away at the dress. "Wh-wh-what are you doing?!"

"I'm cleaning one of Angelina's dresses," she replied quite simply. "She's been so lax in her care for them of late. You would think that, as a doctor, she would take the proper steps to ensure her clothing remains clean during surgery."

Grell slowly nodded, their skin a bit pale and a bit of a worried expression on their face. "R-right. Surgery…"

Her brow rose as the uncertain tone Grell used. "Are you alright, Grell?" Pausing her scrubbing, she looked up at them. "It's just a bit of laundry. You've helped with this countless times before."

"Y-yes, yes! Just fine!" they told her, a smile coming to their lips. "It was just a bit shocking, is all, seeing you surrounded by all that bloodied fabric! Almost like a little murderer, trying to clean up her mess." They laughed, waving their hand at their face slightly in an effort to cool down—thanks to all the water Madelina had been having to boil, the kitchen was quite sweltering.

"…That's quite an odd way to phrase it," she replied. "Why don't you take over for me so I can get started on pressing your jacket for tonight?"

"Ah, yes…I almost forgot. There's that party Red and I must attend tonight."

"Not just any party." Standing up, Madelina wiped her hands on her apron. It was of little use, however, given that it was far from dry. "It's one held by Viscount of Druitt. You'll be witnessing opulence and grandeur in excessive amounts." Shoving a few stray curls out of her face, she moved to grab Grell's jacket, which was hanging from a hook near the door. It had been washed the previous day in anticipation of that night's gala. "And, hopefully, catching Jack the Ripper—or, at least, that's what Angelina hopes will happen."

"Yes, that's right. Her nephew is convinced that the Viscount is the only plausible suspect, given his medical knowledge and his lack of alibis." Grell looked over at her as they sat down on her stool. "Have you been to one of his parties before?"

She nodded, smoothing the jacket over the ironing board. "I have and I can't say I enjoyed it very much. Then again, I've never really been one for such events. When you're as short as me, you're usually getting bounced around by all the ladies' bustles."

Snickering, Grell started to scrub at the blood stains. "Most people wouldn't mind that kind of problem," they told her. "In fact, they may rather enjoy it!"

"Perhaps if the bustles weren't just hollow, metal cages covered in a layer of fabric, it would be more enjoyable. As it stands, however, they are and they're quite painful to bump into or get hit in the face with." She grabbed a kitchen towel and wrapped it around the handle of an iron that had been heating up on the stove before beginning to press out the wrinkles in Grell's jacket.

"You're not _that_ short, Maddie. Small enough that a bustle would hit you in the chest, yes, but not in the face."

"You're clearly unaware of just how large some bustles can be."

"Mm-hmm," they replied, clearly not convinced. "So tell me: Just _how_ many of the viscount's parties have you attended before?"

She shrugged, setting the iron on end so she could adjust the jacket. "Two. They're _extremely _exclusive, catering to the highest of the high class. I'm not sure how Angelina was able to procure invites to either of them—or to tonight's, for that matter."

"I've heard he's quite the handsome and romantic man."

"I suppose most would say he is." She plucked up the iron again and started to press once more. "He's not quite my type, however, so I'll leave the judgement of his appearance up to you."

Grell looked over their shoulder at her, a mischievous grin on their lips. "Not your type, Maddie? If he's so handsome, then how _isn't _he your type?"

She glanced over at them, her brow rising. "I prefer my men to _not _bear a resemblance to my brothers."

Their smile fell and their nose scrunched up slightly. "Oh. Well, I suppose that makes sense…" Just as quickly as it had faded, however, the smile was back. "So, what kind of man _would _you say is your type? The tall, dark handsome sort like Sebastian? The tall, light—"

"I would sooner gouge my own eyes out than find that horrid man even the slightest bit attractive," Madelina interjected.

At that, Grell blinked in shock. "…I knew you disliked him, but I didn't realize you disliked him _that _much."

She let out a sarcastic laugh. "I despise the man." Shaking her head, she moved to put the iron back on the stove. She then used the kitchen towel to pick up another iron. "I know you and nearly everyone else finds him to be attractive and the epitome of a butler, but something about him just rubs me the wrong way. And clearly, the feeling is mutual because he hates me just as much as I hate him."

Grell shook their head. "It's so strange that the two of you hate each other so much. I find you both quite likable." They then let out a wistful sigh. "But that Sebastian is absolutely _dreamy_…" Starting to scrub again, they glanced over at the small chef again. "In all seriousness, Maddie, what kind of man _do _you find to be your type?"

"Men who are sweet and honest," she replied, "and who want a family." A small sigh left her mouth and she used the back of her hand to wipe some sweat from her forehead.

"And what would your Mr. Right look like, hmmm?" There was amusement and curiosity in their voice as they made the inquiry.

"Doesn't matter to me, to be honest. I know, I know—I'm a boring woman with boring tastes. Angelina's already informed me of this."

They pouted. "Really, Maddie? You've known Red for _how _long? One would think that you would have developed a more refined and somewhat kinky taste in men by now!"

Madelina felt her cheeks grow warm and she was glad her back was to Grell. "Well, I do have penchant for blondes, it would seem. My last two beaus were blondes, as was my fiancé…" She then shook her head. "But I have little to no intent to seek out a relationship any time soon. I've not had the best of luck with them and I would rather not waste any man's time."

At that information, Grell paused in their work once again and turned around to stare at her back. "You were once _engaged_?" they gasped. "_And _you've had a couple of beaus since then? Dear me, Maddie! With how young you are, that's quite the achievement! Why would you ever want to avoid a relationship when you're clearly capable of snagging a man of your choice?"

"The two beaus left me for other women," she told them, her voice stiff. It sounded as if she were trying to hold back either anger or sorrow—or, perhaps, both. "As for the engagement…it ended on the day I was to be married. My fiancé had been murdered that morning."

Grell cringed, somewhat regretting their teasing now. "Ah…yes, well I can see how that would put a damper on your outlook on romance," they murmured. "And it would certainly explain why Red's told me you know the kind of pain she's suffered over the years…" They rubbed the back of their neck. "Er…my apologies, by the way. I hadn't meant to bring about any depressing memories."

"You would have found out eventually," she told them. "I rather it would have come from my mouth instead of spilling from one of Red's drunken gossip session." She gave them a reassuring smile as she returned the iron to the stove, though it almost seemed forced. "Your jacket's all pressed. Would you like me to take it upstairs for you, just in case something 'disastrous' were to happen down here?"

They nodded. "Yes, that would the smart thing to do, wouldn't it? Thank you, Maddie." A thankful smile came to their lips before they looked back down at the dress.

Carefully lifting the jacket in one hand so that it wouldn't press against her damp apron, Madelina lifted her skirts slightly with her other hand and started up the stairs. She carried it to Red's room, where she laid it out on the bed. Seeing that Red's dress for that evening hadn't been laid out yet, she let out a sigh and pushed some stray curls from her face.

Upon opening the wardrobe doors, she looked up at the mass of gowns in varying shades of red. "Let's see…she said she wished to wear the sleeveless layered dress with black accents…" She pulled over a stool and started to sort through the rack, still taking care to not let her own clothing touch them. "Ah, here it is." Pulling a hanger out, she hopped off the stool and took the dress over to the bed. She laid it out next to Grell's jacket before returning to the wardrobe to fetch the gloves and boa that went with it.

"There," she murmured, looking down at her handiwork. A tired smile came to her lips and she moved to close the wardrobe. She paused, however, as she passed by the mirror. Turning to look at her reflection, she frowned.

Her skin was paler than normal and the curls of her hair almost seemed like they weren't as wavy as normal. The color, too, looked as if it were duller than it usually was. But it could have been the poor lighting in the room; it was overcast outside and the light that came in through the windows was cold and constantly changing with the movements of clouds and smog.

"Well, I _have _been feeling rather tired these last few days," she murmured. Hiking her skirts up to her thigh, she pulled the small, silver flask from its holster on her thigh. She twisted the cap off before taking a long drink from it; its contents burnt her tongue and throat as it made its way to her stomach. Its flavor, however, was similar to that of honey, making the burn a bit more tolerable.

After screwing the cap back on, she tucked the flask away in its holster before lowering her skirts. A sigh left her mouth as she brushed them back into place. Looking into the mirror again, a small smile came to her lips. There was a bit of color on her cheeks and her hair was back to normal—if it had even been different before.

"There," she murmured, her hands on her hips. "That's better."

Downstairs, the sound of the front door bursting open could be heard. "Maddie! Grell!" came Red's voice. It almost sounded singsong in nature. "Come here, you two! I have something I need to discuss with you!"

"Coming, Angelina," Madelina called. As she left the room, she wondered what in the world it was that Red would need to discuss with them. After all, they had already gone over the plan for that evening—which, in all honesty, didn't involve her much at all. She wouldn't be attending the viscount's party, but rather, she would be staying home and having a relaxing evening off.

At least, she was _hoping _for a relaxing evening off.

Though she hated to admit it, training Grell how to be a proper butler was rather exhausting work. She was constantly having to correct their mistakes and was getting tired of constantly having to lightly scold them. They weren't a child, after all—they were a fully grown adult! Thankfully, however, they seemed to finally be getting the hang of _some_ things. So long as Sebastian wasn't in the room, that is.

With how often Earl Phantomhive and his butler had been visiting the city of late, though, it had been rather difficult to keep Grell from falling to pieces.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Madelina found Red waiting for both her and Grell. The baroness had her arms cross and was impatiently tapping her foot.

"You're home earlier than expected," Madelina said. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong, Maddie dear," Red told her, managing a reassuring smile. "There's just been a small change of plans. Grell and I will be staying with Ciel for the next few days. And we need to head out soon because we need to help get Ciel ready for the party this evening."

At that, Madelina frowned slightly. "Are you really going to be dressing the poor boy up in a dress and wig?" she asked.

"It's the only way we'll be able to get evidence of the viscount's misdeeds, Maddie. And you know well enough how I've always wanted a little girl!" She grinned broadly and innocently, though the maid knew she was far from.

Shaking her head, Madelina turned around to head back up the stairs. "Let me take off this wet apron and then I'll pack your things for you."

"Just my dress for this evening and my nightdress is all, dear. We're only going to be a few miles away, after all."

Grell suddenly burst into the hallway, their front absolutely soaked and soap suds covering their forearms. "Ah! Red! What timing! I had just finished washing one of your dresses!" they proudly proclaimed.

"I certainly hope you didn't drop a bottle of chlorine in it this time."

"I'll have you know I didn't even _look _at the bottle of chlorine! Just ask Maddie!"

Rolling her eyes, Madelina glanced over her shoulder with a small grin. "They're telling the truth—but only because _I_ had washed the majority of the dress before they ever stepped foot in the kitchen," she reminded them as she started to ascend the stairs. She lightly shook her head and quietly laughed to herself.

"The kitchen? Why in the world were you washing my dress in the kitchen?" Red questioned.

Madelina turned around as she reached the top of the stairs, her hands on her hips. "Because I didn't feel like lugging five buckets of boiling water over to the laundry room just for _one _garment," she retorted. "And you don't use chlorine on blood stains anyway—you use kerosene."

Red seemed to stiffen slightly. "Blood stains? Whatever do you mean, Maddie?" she asked, her brows furrowed. "My dresses don't have _blood stains_."

Her brow rose. "The dress you wore earlier in the week—it had nearly a dozen blood stains all over the front of the skirt," she told her. "Really, Angelina: You should know better than to not fasten your surgical jacket all the way before performing a surgery."

Grell cleared their throat. "I quite agree, Red," they said, their voice taking on a hint of a scolding tone. "The last thing you need is to be ruining your pretty red dresses with ugly brownish stains left by dried blood. Perhaps it's time you invest in some not-so-fine dresses you could wear to the hospital instead?"

As she walked down the hall, Madelina could hear the two beginning to squabble over Red's carelessness while at work and the damage it caused her lovely clothes. Shaking her head once more, she sighed and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

'Thank heavens they'll be gone a few _days _instead of a few hours,' she thought. 'Though, I'm sure the peace and quiet will become overwhelming by morning…'

* * *

It was nearing ten o'clock in the evening. After locking up the house and changing into her nightdress, Madelina sat on the edge of her bed with a comb, parting her hair into three even parts. At least, she _tried _t get the parts even—it was a hard feat to achieve, given how poofy her hair was.

'With Angelina and Grell gone for the next few days, that means I only have to cook for myself…which is a bit of a hassle, given that I'd have to get the stove going and keep it fed throughout the day. Well, for breakfast I don't have to cook—I could have leftover scones and jam. And if I dine at a restaurant for dinner…'

She started to braid her hair, her gaze idly turning to look out of the window. The fog hadn't quite rolled in and the smog wasn't very thick, giving her a rare view of the moon. It was big and round, but not entirely so—a waxing gibbous, perhaps? Or maybe a waning gibbous?

Out of nowhere, she saw something—no, some_one_—running across the rooftops. Her brows furrowing, she stood up and went over to the window to try and get a better view. It was hard to make out any details about the person thanks to how far away they were, but it looked like they had a short cape billowing behind them as they ran.

"Wait a second," she murmured, her eyes narrowing slightly. "That's hair, _not_ fabric…" As the person hopped onto a different house, Madelina caught a glimpse of color that made her eyes widen in shock and made her stomach drop. "Is that _Grell_?" She let go of her hair in shock, momentarily forgetting that she was in the process of braiding it.

She rubbed her eyes to make sure she hadn't been seeing things. Though she was in time to see the figure jump out of sight, she hadn't been able to get another look at the color. Shaking her head, she closed her curtains and returned to her bed.

"It can't be them," she told herself. "They're too much of a bumbling oaf to be running so gracefully. Anyway, they're off at the viscount's party." Having to undo her braid and comb her hair into sections all over again, she braided it once more and tied it off with a leather cord. "It was probably some ruffian trying to evade the police is all."

Shaking her head, she sighed and crawled into bed. She wasn't quite sure why, but there was a lingering feeling of uncertainty in her stomach. Extinguishing her lamp, she mentally scolded herself for being foolish.

'Why in the world would _Grell_ be frolicking among the rooftops anyway?' she thought, closing her eyes.

* * *

The next day brought heavy clouds and cool temperatures. As Madelina walked back from the market, a basket of eggs and that day's newspaper in hand, she shivered. The air had the distinct bite of late autumn and there was a threatening heaviness to it that she knew could only mean approaching rain. She pulled her shawl closer to her body and quickened her pace; she didn't want to risk being caught in a rainstorm.

Luckily, it hadn't started raining until mid-afternoon and, by that point, she had been home for quite a while. Now, sitting in a chair in the parlor, her legs tucked underneath her and a blanket covering her small form, she unrolled the newspaper. A sigh left her mouth as she read the top headline, 'JACK THE RIPPER RETURNS!'

"This is getting out of hand," she murmured, skimming the article. "Being a prostitute was already hard enough for those poor women...They were just trying to earn a living like the rest of us. Some of them can hardly afford medical attention, let alone better lives." She moved onto the next article, a piece about London's bakers and their scandalous use of fillers—such as plaster of Paris and alum—in their bread.

As evening fell, the weather outside only grew worse. Lightning flashed across the sky only to be quickly followed by the rumbling roar of thunder. Some bouts of thunder seemed much closer than others; it felt like Madelina's very bones were being rattled. Oddly, though, it had stopped raining for the time being.

She was turning the lamps in the upstairs hallway off when she heard the familiar creaking of the front door. A frown came to her lips; had Angelina and Grell come home early? Surely they would have phoned the house to let her know of their early arrival?

"Angelina? Grell?" she hesitantly called out. "Is that you?"

When no reply came, she leaned over and grabbed the handle of the knife hidden in her boot. She had locked the front door, so whoever it was had to have picked the lock. With the knife in hand, she slowly moved towards the top of the stairs—but then she thought better of it and crept her way towards the servants' stairs. Slowly and taking care to be as quiet as she could, she started to descend the staircase.

'Pretty plucky of whoever it is to sneak in through the _front_ door,' she thought, her eyes adjusting to the darkness of the stairwell. 'But also not very smart of them. I know this house like the back of my hand.'

To her dismay, she could hear them rummaging around in the kitchen. Her heart was racing and she held her breath out of fear of being heard. She knew that she wouldn't be seen—all the downstairs lamps had already been extinguished—but she was still afraid of being found out.

Reaching the bottom step, she peered around the corner and saw the silhouette of a person going through one of the drawers. Madelina squinted in an attempt to better see the person, but it was useless. Whoever it was had found what they were searching for and closed the drawer (the knife drawer, Madelina noticed) before making to leave the room.

"Oi!" Madelina sudden called out. "Where do you think you're going?!" Coming out of hiding, she hurried towards the person.

The person jumped and swore—did their voice sound familiar? She couldn't tell at the moment—before taking off at a run. Madelina followed after, chasing them into and then down the hallway. Seeing that the front door was still wide open, she tried to speed up. Her short legs could only go so fast, though, and as the thief darted through the doorway, they slammed the door shut behind them.

Throwing the door open only to close it behind her once more, Madelina looked to her left and saw nothing and no one. To her right, however, she was able to catch sight of coattails disappearing behind a corner. Pursing her lips, she hurriedly tucked her knife back into her boot before running after the person.

She knew she was being foolish, chasing after this person. Not only was it dangerous, given the size difference between the two of them, but she was also leaving the house empty. She had left the front door unlocked to boot, potentially leaving the house susceptible to other thieves. Not to mention the fact that it was freezing cold out…

Madelina didn't know for how long or how far she had chased the person, but by the time she realized she had lost track of them, she was in an unfamiliar part of London. Judging by the unkempt look of the houses in this area, she was in one of the poorer parts. She quietly swore to herself and turned around, making to head back in the direction she had come from.

As she walked, she hugged herself and rubbed her arms in a futile attempt to warm up. 'Well this is a right proper mess I've gotten myself in,' she thought. 'And for what? A knife? Why would someone even want a kitchen knife—one of _my_ kitchen knives at that!' Grumbling under her breath, she hopped over a puddle. 'I wonder what else they took, though…? Oh, they better not have taken any of Angelina's knicknacks…'

She came to a crossroads and paused; she couldn't remember from which direction she had come. For some reason, though, her gut told her to head right. Knowing better than to not listen to it, she started to go right. As she did so, the skies opened up and began to drench the earth in their rains once more. She swore under her breath and wondered how the night could get any worse.

Halfway down the street, she was stopped in her tracks by a woman's scream. It came from further down the road; maybe even a street over. Her eyes widening, Madelina started to run in the direction of the scream; again, it was something her gut had told her to do.

She was scared, though—scared of what she was going to find. Would it be the latest Ripper victim? Or would it be a woman who had simply been robbed?

But even in her wildest dreams, she would never have imagined the scene that she _did_ stumble upon.

Darting across the street, Madelina could hear voices coming from down a nearby alleyway. She hurried towards the sounds, her chest burning and her stomach aching from all the running she had done. As she rounded a corner, she let the momentum of running carry her halfway down the alley before she skidded to a halt. The scene before her drained the color from her skin and made her stomach drop.

Before her were Sebastian, Ciel, Grell, and Red. Behind them was an apartment, its door wide open to show the bloody horror within. Grell, she saw, was no longer in their butler disguise and their clothes were splattered with blood. Beside them stood Red, her arms crossed and an expression of annoyance on her face. She must have caught sight of Madelina, however, because she went from staring at her nephew to looking at her cook in shock.

"Madelina?" she questioned, her voice filled with confusion. "What are you doing here?"

Grell let out theatrical sigh. "I _maaaaay_ have accidentally caught her attention when I popped back home for a moment," they said. "I forgot a tool, you see, and I did my best to be quiet, but that front door of yours really needs oiling, darling." They then wiggled their index finger scoldingly and grinned, showing long, pointed teeth. "Oh, Maddie, Maddie, Maddie! I do admire your dedication, though—trying to retrieve your mistress's stolen cutlery despite being so adorable and so very tiny.! But you really ought to have stayed home tonight, dear Maddie. Now I'm afraid you won't get to see it again."

"What!?" she cried, eyes widening in horror.

"Your mistress and this incompetent butler of hers happen to be the ones behind the Ripper murders," Sebastian explained, glancing over his shoulder. "How you were able to remain oblivious to their murderous past time is beyond me, however."

Madelina's jaw dropped as she could only gawk at the scene. This wasn't right—Red and Grell couldn't possibly be the Ripper. But behind them was the proof: a blood-and-gut splattered room with even more blood washing off Grell's jacket.

Red looked at the ground, despair coming to her face as she let out a heavy sigh. "How sad...Madelina, my only true friend," her voice was barely a whisper, "and Ciel, my love nephew. My elder sister's son…" Despite the confusion and horror filling her, Madelina was compelled to walk forward so she could comfort her friend. "If you hadn't insisted on getting to the bottom of all this—insisted on being so loyal to me—we might've had some delicious cake and played chess again. However…" She looked back up, the despair replaced by hatred and fury. "I will not yield this time!" she shouted.

A mechanical roaring suddenly filled the air and Grell rushed forward. They swung a strange sort of saw with a rotating, toothed chain towards Ciel, but Sebastian darted in front of him, catching the blade between his palms.

"Wh-what is that!?" Ciel cried.

"All reapers possess a tool for hunting souls," Sebastian explained, shoving Grell backwards. "It is known as the 'Death Scythe', though this is my first time seeing one that looks like that." He pushed some hair from his face. "The Death scythe is rather troublesome."

Madelina felt her mouth go dry and her knees started to shake. "Grell's a...a Grim Reaper?" she stammered. She was forced to lean against the wall for support while her mind tried to process everything that was happening. The words being spoken by Grell and Sebastian had become little more than buzzing in her ears.

How could babbling, bumbling Grell be a Grim Reaper?!

She was drawn from her thoughts and the sounds of the world returned to normal as Grell revved their strange form of Death Scythe. Looking over at them, she watched as Ciel removed his eyepatch.

"In the name of the Queen and mine own evil title," the young lord was saying, "I command you: Hunt them down!"

Sebastian's eyes glowed red and a dangerous, cat-like smirk came to his lips. "Yes, my lord." Unbuttoning his jacket, he plopped it over Ciel's head. "So that you won't become so cold," he explained. Then, he turned and looked at Madelina, a faux smile on his lips. "Miss Madelina, do make yourself useful and keep my lord out of the way." Without another word, he proceeded to engage Grell in combat.

Shakily nodding, she managed to push herself away from the wall. Surely this had to be a bad dream? Maybe she had eaten a roll that had been baked with fillers instead of her own baking and this was the result?

No. She knew better. She knew this peaceful life had been running on borrowed time.

She came to stand behind Ciel, but she didn't dare touch him. He looked so sad and scared under that jacket, but as he looked up towards his aunt, Madelina saw that his right eye was not blue like the left, but a deep violet with a lavender pentagram in place of a pupil and iris. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"So Sebastian's a demon," she murmured, more to herself than to the others. She had suspected something wasn't quite right about the butler, but for him to be a demon…?

"Why?" Ciel suddenly questioned. His voice sounded empty, making Madelina want to hug him, but still, she didn't.

"Why?" Red repeated, a prideful smirk on her lips. "You're asking me now? How do you expect me to answer? You and I have become 'guard dog' and 'sinner', dear nephew. If you weren't a guard dog of this place and instead became the hunted instead of the hunter, then you would see there would only be one path for you."

Too late Madelina saw the glint of metal at Red's side. The baroness ran forward, unfolding a switchblade that had been hidden in her sleeve. Luckily, Ciel was able to jump out of the way as she swung the blade; his arm, however, was grazed by the knife. He hissed in pain and gripped the wound.

"Madam!" he cried, hoping to talk some sense into her. "You're a doctor—you took an oath to help people! Why did you murder those women?!" He looked up at her, hurt in his eyes.

"Even if I told a little brat like you, you wouldn't understand!" Red snarled. There was a variety of emotions passing over her face-sorrow, anger, hate, confusion... "You would never understand!" Her grip tightened around the knife. "You...You! YOU! IF YOU HADN'T BEEN BORN, THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN THE BEST!" Again she rushed forward, her arm drawing back for a second attempt at harming her nephew.

But for a split second, as she started to swing the knife, an image of her late sister appeared in place of her nephew. As the visage disappeared and Ciel's face reappeared, she gasped. Red tried to cease her arm's movement, but the momentum had been too strong.

There was a flash of burgundy and Red was shoved backwards a few feet, something clinging to her midsection. Looking down, she found Madelina holding onto her. Behind her, Sebastian's hand was just inches away.

"Angelina, please—please come to your senses!" she choked out. "This isn't you!" As she looked up at Red's face, she could see the silhouette of Sebastian stepping away from them.

Her body quaking, Red let go of the knife; it hit the ground with a clatter. "Ma-Maddie?" she whispered. Her body, her mind, even her senses felt numb.

"Madam Red!" Grell snapped. "I can get Maddie—but you need to kill that little brat already!"

"Don't listen to them, Angelina," Madelina pleaded. "You need to stop this madness-Ciel's your beloved nephew! You would never hurt him!"

"Eh?" Grell questioned, brow rising. "Don't listen to her!"

Red shook her head, her hands balling into fists and her eyes clenching shut. "I—I can't do it! I can't kill this child!" she cried out.

"You're saying this now?!" Grell snarled. "After all those women we've killed!?" They started to stalk towards her. "If you don't kill that little brat, it'll be your turn to be killed!"

"But...but—" She suddenly spun around, breaking Madelina's hold on her waist. "This child is my—"

Madelina's eyes shot open as the air was forced from her lungs and, for a few seconds, all she could hear was the sound of metal as it tore through flesh, bone, and cartilage. A searing pain filled her chest and, as she looked down, she found the chain of Grell's Death Scythe spinning round and round in her chest. It was yanked forward with a nauseating squelching sound and it was then she realized the scythe had gone through Red's chest before plunging into hers.

As the scythe was pulled from their chests, the force had sent Red flying across the alleyway.

Falling to her knees, Madelina looked down at the wound in her chest. Shards of bone and chunks of flesh stuck out of the gaping hole. But instead of the red blood that flowed through a human's veins, hers was gold in color-much like honey. She clutched at her chest, as if trying to hide the hole with her hands. With her pain beginning to fade away, she felt her body becoming numb to everything except the cold.

She was so cold…

Forcing herself to turn her attention to Red, she saw the woman lying a few yards away. Blood as red as her hair and her dress from from her chest and mouth, rolling down her skin to pool on the cobblestones below.

"N-no," Madelina whispered, her voice hoarse and choked. "Ang-Angelina...No…" Tears started to spill from her eyes.

From Red's wound burst forth strips of weird paper, images imprinted on it. From the bits she could make out, Madelina saw that the images were from various points in Red's life—in many of them, she could see herself, usually in the background as she assisted Red and her late husband throughout the last eight years.

As the strips flowed out of her, Red gasped for breath, trying to cling onto the shred of life still in her. But then, with another swing of their scythe, Grell severed the lengths of paper and Red ceased moving. Her eyes glassed over and she exhaled for the last time as her life left her.

A choked cry left Madelina's mouth. Weakly, she started to crawl towards Red's body, but something slammed into her and she fell sideways. She swore, the word coming out in a glob of golden blood. Looking up, she found Grell walking past her on their way over to Red's body.

She glared at him, the cold suddenly leaving her body. Instead, it was replaced by an indescribable heat centered in her chest, right where her wound was-right where her heart was. Slowly, she rolled pushed herself to her knees, glaring at the reaper.

Something inside her told her to draw the knife from her boot and she did. Ciel and Sebastian's attention were on Grell, whose back was to her. Slowly-ever so slowly-she rose to her feet. Her vision changed, growing sharper and she could see better in the darkness. She gave the knife a little twirl, feeling the handle of the blade settle into her palm in a more defensive position.

Part of her mind was screaming at her to kill Grell, to punish them for killing her beloved Madam Red. She even took a few, silent steps forward and began to raise her arm. The reaper was clueless to her approach; it would be so easy to just drive the knife right into their back-

Something moved in the corner of her vision caught her attention and her head snapped in the direction of the movement, her lips drawn back in a snarl. She found Ciel walking towards his aunt's body, his face blank, but his jaw quivering ever so slightly—so slight, a normal person wouldn't have noticed. Madelina could hear his heart racing in his chest, could hear his breath catching in his throat as he fought back his emotions. He fell to his knees beside his aunt—the last remnant of his immediate family—and reached out, closing her eyes.

The voice screaming at her to kill Grell suddenly grew silent. Her jaw starting to shake, she felt her breath catch in her own throat. Almost every part of her told her to drop the knife and go console the lad. To tell him that it was alright to cry and to be angry.

Instead, she dropped the knife and ran.


	6. Chapter 6

A soft groan left Madelina's mouth as she started to wake up. Her entire body ached and, as she tried to move her limbs, she found that she was stiff as a board. Breathing, too, was a bit difficult and she started to wonder if she had maybe fallen ill. But as she rubbed her eyes, the memories of the previous night returned to her and her eyes shot open in a panic.

Her hands shot to her throat, feeling for her necklace and its pendant. Finding both to be in place, a bit of her panic subsided.

A weak sigh of relief left her mouth and she looked around at her surroundings. Judging by the amount of light in the room, it was midmorning, though, if the sky was still filled with storm clouds, it could have been mid-afternoon. She also found that she was at home, curled up in a disheveled heap between a chair and its footstool in the parlor. Both had been knocked over and, like the floor, were now bearing yellowish-brown stains from her strange, dried blood.

Then, looking down at herself, she saw that her skin was a deathlike shade of grey and there was a gaping wound in her chest.

"No," she whispered, her eyes widening. "No, no, _no_..."

She had hoped that it had all been a terrible nightmare; that Grell and Red _hadn't _been revealed to be Jack the Ripper. That Red _hadn't _tried to kill Ciel. That Red _hadn't _been so viciously murdered...but as she closed her eyes and let herself flop back against the footrest, Madelina knew it had all been real.

A trembling sigh left her mouth and she hugged her knees to her chest, ignoring the pain that the pose brought. Tears started to flow down her cheeks as she buried her face against her arms. She hadn't felt pain—both physical and mental—this bad in quite some time; it only made her remember how much she hated it and how much she hated being alive at times. Not just because it hurt, but because it also meant she would be forced to run.

She was _so _tired of running.

Madelina wasn't sure how much time had passed by the time she had finally stopped crying, but she knew it had been more than a quarter of an hour. Swallowing hard, she finally uncurled herself and leaned back against the footstool. She felt so tired, so weak…Reaching under her bloodstained skirts, she pulled out her flask. Then, unscrewing the top, she took two large gulps of its contents.

A loud gasp of pain left her mouth as the liquid started to burn its way down her throat and into her stomach. She doubled over, her eyes clenched shut in pain as the fire began to spread throughout her body; it was most intense in the center of her chest, where the wound was. A sheen of sweat started to form over her skin as her body rapidly grew warmer and warmer. She hissed, her fingers digging into the hardwood of the floor.

After what seemed like forever had passed, the pain finally started to subside. Slowly exhaling, she sat upright and looked down at her hands. A good bit of color had returned to them and, as she made to brush some loose strands of hair from her face, she saw that her curls had also returned. Normally, this would have pleased her. At the moment, however, she merely sighed and made to stand up.

Upon standing, she felt her head spin and she wobbled. A soft curse left her mouth as she braced herself on the side of the chair; it didn't help that her body still ached horribly and breathing was a bit tough. As she waited for her head to stop spinning, she gave her flask a shake only to frown—it was empty. She swore once more and, with some caution, started to make her way towards the hallway, where she found the front door shut and, surprisingly, locked.

'I managed to keep a bit of my wits last night, at least,' she thought. A heavy sigh left her mouth as she started to climb the stairs. 'Even if I don't remember anything past Angelina's death. I can't believe she's gone…'

Heat started to fill her chest once again as she recalled how Grell had threatened Angelina. How they had killed her with no mercy. And all because Angelina had refused to kill Ciel…? She had known Grell wasn't exactly the most sane of people, but for them to be so insidious as to want to kill a _child_?!

It was then she realized she had come to a stop in the middle of the stairwell. Her hand was cramping and, when she looked down at it, she found that she had dug her nails into the railing, leaving five little gouges in the wood. Shaking her head, she let go of it and hurried the rest of the way upstairs, doing her best to ignore the swirling in her head. The anger-induced heat faded away, though some warmth remained in her chest.

'I knew she hated doing those abortions, but she never hinted at just _how _much she had hated them,' she thought, going to her room. 'She never let on just how much pain they had brought her and how much they had hurt her…And I can't believe I've never noticed. She was my closest friend…damn it all, I _should_ have noticed. Maybe she would still be here if I had.'

Doing her best to keep herself from crying again, she got down on her knees and pulled a suitcase out from beneath her bed. 'I don't know where I'll go this time…I didn't exactly have much of a warning, so I don't really have a plan in place...' Putting the suitcase atop her bed and opening it, she made to start packing her meager number of belongings. 'I got too comfortable this time. I should have known that, sooner or later, I would have had to leave—if not because of something like this, then because of _them_.'

She was about to open the top drawer of her dresser when she leaned forward, her eyes shutting in discomfort. Though she had done her best to ignore the aches and pains in her lungs and her muscles, the rest of her body was beginning to protest. A new layer of sweat had formed on her brow, making strands of hair stick to her skin. Especially concerning was her legs beginning to wobble as their strength slowly drained away.

Lifting her head, she saw her reflection looking back at her. Her skin, though pinker than it had been, was still pale and her hair wasn't quite as curly as it had been at that time yesterday. But the hole in her chest had had the least amount of change; it was still a gory sight, allowing her to see the ends of her ribs and the cartilage holding them together.

"At least those healed up nicely," she muttered. "Another dose or two of the holy water would probably help the rest…"

In the corner of her vision, there was a slight hint of movement. Her brows furrowing, she looked past herself in the mirror only to find the familiar face of Sebastian standing in the doorway. Swallowing hard, she turned around.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. She winced; her voice was hoarse and talking left her throat feeling scratchy.

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied, his brow rising ever so slightly.

"If you recall, I _live_ here."

His brow rose ever so slightly and he frowned; her sass had irritated him. "There aren't many in this world who could take a reaper's scythe to the chest and survive. And with such spectacular results—when your appearance changed, I would have mistaken you for a demon. But I've never seen a demon with blood like yours."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Because I'm _not_ a demon," she retorted. "You, however…I knew there was something _off _about you, but I never would have guessed that you were one." She didn't like how he was staying in place, blocking the doorway. Not that she could escape, however, given her current state of health.

A soft laugh left his mouth as he strolled into the room. "And yet you often called me a devil."

"I gave you the benefit of the doubt." She wanted to reach for her knife, but she knew it wouldn't be there—she had left it in the alley. "If your plan is to kill me: Good luck trying. It's impossible."

"I figured as much," he admitted, merely making his way over to her bed. He sat down on the edge, crossing a leg over the other. "Your cinematic record didn't even make an appearance. But no, I'm not here to kill you."

She was silent for a moment; she wasn't entirely sure what a cinematic record was, but there was no way she was about to let _him_ know that. "If you're not going to kill me, then why _are_ you here?" Wincing again, she rested her weight on her dresser and tried to take slow, deep breaths. The wobbling in her legs was getting worse, but she forced herself to stay upright.

"Well, if you _must_ know, I'm here to hide or destroy any potential clues as to who Madam Red _really_ was," he told her, "though, I do find it rather fortuitous that you did decide to scamper home last night, as I was also supposed to seek you out."

Her brow rose. "Why?" She watched as some of the amusement left Sebastian's face. "I didn't know Angelina and Grell were the Ripper and if I _had _known, I would have told Ciel."

Sebastian nodded. "Your reaction last night was more than enough evidence of this. Such shock and horror are not easily feigned; what you had was entirely genuine. My lord wants to know who and _what_ you really are." As he spoke, he folded his hands together; something about the action made him subtly wince.

Just barely able to see the wince, Madelina's brow rose. "You touched it, didn't you? My blood. How bad of a burn did you get?" A curse left her mouth as her legs gave out and she fell to her knees.

"You're not doing well at all, are you?" he asked, blatantly ignoring her inquiry. "Though, I must say, your injury looks much better than it did last night—aside from not having been cleaned, that is."

"I haven't exactly had the time nor strength to tend to it." There was a bitter note to her voice that made him smirk. Him being there frustrated her; she had been hoping to pack her things and leave before anyone even _thought _about checking in on her. Swallowing hard, she struggled to get back to her feet, but her legs gave out again.

A soft laugh left Sebastian's mouth, finding her efforts entertaining. "I expected you to have more strength than this, given what you are."

She shot him a glare. "So you know what I am."

"I've heard of you, yes. But I never expected you to be such a small and useless creature. I would have thought the church would choose someone more…"

"Akin to an Arthurian Knight?"

"Precisely."

"Well, the priest and monks who did this to me were idiots." Giving up on her battle to stand, she slumped against the dresser and pulled out her flask. "If you fill this with water for me, I'll go with you without a fight."

"…You want _me _to go to a church to fill that up?" he questioned, his voice almost mocking. He watched as her brows furrowed in confusion. "I overheard your mutterings about holy water as I approached your room."

At that, a wry grin came to her lips, _almost _taking the demonic butler by surprise. "Oh, you don't have to go to a church to fill it," she clarified, "because the vessel _itself_ is blessed. What goes in automatically becomes holy."

His brow rose a miniscule amount and he got to his feet. "…Interesting. Normally, it would take the blessings of a priest or monk for the water to become holy." Walking over, he plucked the flask from her hands; he had expected it to make his hands tingle in the familiar way that most holy objects did. Instead, however, it felt like a completely normal object. As he turned it over, inspecting it, he found the strange ruins engraved on the front. "…This is old Norse."

"It's a long story," she wheezed. "One that I'll tell _if_ your young master asks it of me." She watched as Sebastian glanced between her and the flask for a few seconds longer before turning and leaving the room. Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes and let her head thump back against the dresser; it was bad enough to deal with Sebastian when she was in good health. Having to put up with him while she was in such an injured state, however?

'At least he's not insulting me _too_ much,' she thought, slowly exhaling a sigh. 'Then again, he's probably too focused on his tasks to find time to be too rude towards me. He's taking it surprisingly well, though, given that he now knows I was made to _destroy_ beings like him…' If she had had the lung capacity, she would have snorted at the thought.

Hearing footsteps, she opened her eyes again and found Sebastian just stepping back into the room. He held the flask, a droplet of water rolling down its side. Then, crouching down in front of her, he offered it out to her—only to suddenly pull it back with a Cheshire grin as she tried to reach for it.

"You said you would come to be interrogated by the young master _without _fight should I refill this for you," he stated. "Do you intend to live up to those words or will I have to find some rope and tie you up like an animal? You are about the size of one, after all."

"I have no reason to run," she told him, voice bland. "And even if I did, I'm a woman of my word—especially when I can't really move and am needing assistance." She tried to reach for the flask once more, but Sebastian held it even further out of her grasp.

"How long would it take you to heal without the aid of this holy water?" he then questioned, amusement in his red eyes.

Madelina's frown grew slightly; she had always thought his eyes were a shade of brown. Perhaps it had just been a trick of the light, given how short she was compared to him. "As long as it would take anybody else. Given the damage I suffered, I'd estimate a month or two—three at the most. The holy water only helps so much, though. It just repairs the worst of the damage and restores my energy."

He dropped the flask onto her lap as he stood up. "But, no matter the damage your body suffers, you cannot be killed." Hands behind his back, he walked over to her window and looked out of it.

He had always thought London to be an ugly city, with its filthy streets and even filthier air. The houses, inside and out, had layers of coal dust clinging to the walls. Most of the year, the sky was hidden from view thanks to clouds of smoke and smog brought on from the millions of chimneys and smokestacks. Even worse was the putrid smells brought in whenever the tide sent the waters of the Thames flowing upstream. The view Madelina had from her window made him reconsider things, however.

It was a _revolting_ city.

"No. Nor does my body age. I'm perpetually stuck in my late twenties. Or maybe it was early thirties? I don't quite recall." Opening the vessel, she mentally prepared herself for the pain she was about to endure. Then, taking a deep breath, she chugged the contents and, almost instantly, the same fire she had felt earlier had returned; this time, though, it was far more intense. As it rapidly spread through her body, she clenched her eyes shut and dropped the flask in favor of digging her nails into the floorboards.

Sebastian turned around when he heard her hiss in pain. He watched as the small woman's frame tensed up and began to quiver as she fought against the pain filling every fiber of her being. "Intriguing that something meant to help you causes you so much pain," he commented.

She managed to open her eyes enough to glare at him. "It's a penance," she explained through clenched teeth, "meant to remind me that I should be thankful for this…this curse." Her eyes screwed shut and she swore, her legs rubbing together in agony. Earlier, her flask had only been a quarter full. Now that she had drank a full portion of its water, however, the pain was lasting much longer—so much so, she was beginning to feel lightheaded and dizzy.

"While you recover, I think I'll continue on with my mission," he said with a sigh. He started to walk towards the door, pausing for a few, brief seconds to see if she would be able to get out anymore snark.

Madelina wanted to tell him that he wouldn't find any—that she would have noticed if there had been some hint of Red and Grell's activities. Instead, though, she quietly swore and allowed herself to topple sideways and curl into the fetal position.

She didn't know how long it took for the pain to finally subside, but she knew it had to have been close to an hour. Sitting up, she noticed that her insides felt shaky, similar to the feeling she would get after running up and down the stairs multiple times in a short timespan. But she felt stronger and that's what mattered to her.

Once she had gotten to her feet, she turned to face the mirror. Her wound looked much better, but it would still need cleaning and stitched up. Continuing to stare into the mirror, she saw that Sebastian was nowhere to be found—either he had left or he was simply in another room.

'More than likely the latter,' she thought, crouching down to pick up her flask. Her brow rose as she lifted it; it had been refilled once again. 'Well, that was surprisingly courteous of him.'

Going over to the door of her room, she closed and locked it before undressing herself. She used a layer of her bloodstained petticoat as a rag, pouring a bit of holy water on it and proceeding to carefully wash the wound. It stung, making her quietly curse over and over again, but the pain was minimal compared to the agony she had just gone through.

Just as she was finishing stitching it up, there was a knock on her door. "I take it you've come out of your pain-induced blackout, then?" came Sebastian's voice.

"Yes," she called. "I'm stitching up my wound and I'm rather indecent at the moment, thus the locked door. I promise I'm not trying to run away."

"How long do you think it will take until you're ready to leave? My lord will need his midday meal in—" There was a pause and Madelina could envision him pulling his pocket watch from his waistcoat to check the time, "—forty-seven minutes and thirty-one seconds."

She rolled her eyes. "I assure you I'll be done with _plenty _of time to spare in order for you to prepare luncheon." Tying off the thread, she snipped it off with a pair of embroidery scissors. "His townhouse is only a couple of blocks away." Hearing Sebastian's footsteps disappear down the hallway, her brow rose; she had been expecting him to make some quip on her walking speed in relation to her height.

'At least I'll get the chance to check on Ciel before I leave,' she told herself. Opening her dresser, she pulled out a fresh set of undergarments and proceeded to change into them. 'And now I partly know why he went from being a carefree little boy to being a cold, calculating business man…I can't blame him, though. The poor dear lost his twin and his parents in that horrid fire…' She swallowed hard at the thought, having to force herself to not shed any tears.

She didn't want to break down again. Not now. She could cry more later, when she knew she was in a safer place.

The next items she pulled from her dresser was a white blouse and brown skirt, putting them only after she made sure her flask was safely tucked away in its holster. Crossing her room, she grabbed a tartan shawl and wrapped it about her shoulders. After pulling her curls out from under the shawl, she headed downstairs; she would have combed them, but they wouldn't have looked much different.

Sebastian was sitting in an arm chair, legs crossed and fingers steepled. His eyes were closed, but as she stepped into the parlor, they flicked open. As usual, the first thing he noticed was her abundance of curls followed by her short stature.

"You look rather human again." It was hard to tell if this was meant as an insult or as a compliment—he was, after all, a demon.

"I _feel _almost human again." She hugged the shawl a bit closer to herself. "Shall we get going, then?"


End file.
